


Toliman

by cassieoh_draws (cassieoh), Fafsernir_oldFandoms (Fafsernir)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, Kinda, M/M, snake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22296763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh/pseuds/cassieoh_draws, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fafsernir/pseuds/Fafsernir_oldFandoms
Summary: Aziraphale was trying to find what resonated with him in life. He hadn't expect it to be someone. Working at a circus was hard, but meeting new people – meeting Crowley – was all worth it. It was as if he had found what he had been seeking for so long.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 82
Kudos: 112
Collections: Good Omens Big Bang 2019, Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> Here's our contribution for the 2019 GOBB! I had the honor to work with two wonderful artists, a beta and a wonderful friend!  
> To start with, a thousand thanks to [Justafewthingstosay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay) who has been constantly supportive of this project, read through it all, and helped with the plot a great deal!  
> Thanks to my amazing GOBB beta, [runningturnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningturnip) for the hard work; and to [restlesslikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesslikeme), the playlist maker (which will be linked in the notes of every chapter after this one)  
> And a big thanks to [cassieoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh) for all the amazing art and all the cute snakes! There will be one snake per chapter, so look out for them ;)  
> Enjoy this beautiful project we put up!

_Listen to the playlist along:_ **[Standing back up](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333274120) **

The warmth of the circus contrasted with the cold breeze of the outside world. Aziraphale breathed more freely as he unbuttoned his coat, taking it off and carefully folding it on his arm. The young ringmaster, Youssef, watched him patiently, smirking when he saw his careful and delicate hands moving the coat around. He waited for him to be ready, then guided him further inside.

Aziraphale’s eyes opened in awe as they stepped closer to the centre ring. Youssef was talking about how they had just finished their shows here and would soon move to the next town, so they were already starting to pack, but often let the centre ring because their most recent acrobat liked to rehearse until the very last minute. Aziraphale had been inside before and he had met some of the performers. He had not met their ‘most recent acrobat’. Youssef had gestured at the ring when he had talked about them and Aziraphale concluded that the beautiful creature he was seeing was exactly that.

Aziraphale had always felt drawn to aerial silk, even if he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when that had started, or why. He had always found it graceful, and time stopped when he was looking at a performer on a silk. They were flying above the ground, wrapped in a beautiful fabric, relying on their skills and strength alone not to fall. Alone with themselves, Aziraphale liked to think.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the person suspended in the air. He could barely see a face, hidden by long red hair which moved around them with an additional grace that hypnotized Aziraphale. The ginger hair stood out against the dark-green silk as the person wrapped themselves in it.

“Anthony!”

Aziraphale startled at Youssef’s voice, while the performer looked up, unsurprised. Their – his? – eyes briefly met Aziraphale’s. When he dropped, Aziraphale took a step forward but stopped himself. He knew it was intended, he always knew, but he was always afraid the person would not be able to successfully control the fall. He didn’t need to worry, as the silk unfolded from the man – Anthony? – as he dropped, stopping just a bit above the ground. He sprang to his feet with agility, and walked towards Aziraphale and Youssef.

To say that his gait looked odd was an understatement. He was swaying his hips in a way that suggested he actually didn’t have any, and each step he took made Aziraphale think he would fall to the ground. He didn’t fall, just sauntered towards them in the most unique way.

“I told you, it’s Crowley,” were the man’s – Anthony? Crowley? – first words.

“It’s Anthony when you don’t listen,” Youssef shook his head.

“Is that the new guy, then?” Anthony-Crowley grinned.

“Yes, our new entertainer.”

Aziraphale was following the exchange, but his eyes weren’t leaving the performer’s face. His eyes looked almost yellow with the darkness of the room. Aziraphale was still trying to determine their real colour when he realised he was being talked to.

“I’m Crowley,” Crowley repeated for him, frowning.

“A-Aziraphale.”

“Aziraphale…” Crowley seemed to test the name in his mouth, as if he was trying a new food. The consonants sounded nice in his mouth, the vowels rolled out nicely… It felt like he was already familiar with his strange name. Aziraphale felt a heavy weight in his chest at the thought and tried to ignore how good it felt to hear Crowley pronounce his name. He had the odd feeling of having just found something he hadn’t known he had lost.

Crowley held out a hand and Aziraphale tentatively reached with his own, anticipating the moment they would touch. Their hands clasped together naturally and it sent shivers down Aziraphale’s spine instantly. He wasn’t a particularly tactile person, he wasn’t even used to shaking hands, and the contact felt… good, for lack of a better word. He wasn’t sure how he could explain it. He had the nagging feeling that the contact was wrong – why? he had no clue – but at the same time it was as if his body had craved that touch for millenia – how was that possible? He had no clue. 

“Are you done, Crowley?” Youssef asked, and both men startled, taking a step back and a deep breath.

“Sure, do you want me to show him around?”

Youssef nodded, smiling at Aziraphale, and turned. His relaxed position tensed up as he looked around, ensuring everything was done well and put in the right place.

Crowley brought his hair up to tie it in a bun quickly, and Aziraphale could only stare as he did so. He watched the thin fingers thread through long, beautiful strands of red hair, mesmerized. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t help staring at Crowley, but he didn’t wonder for too long as his gaze caught on the freckles on Crowley’s face and bare shoulders when he turned towards the lit center ring. Aziraphale’s breath caught up in his throat as Crowley smiled, looking up as the silk he had been using was being taken down carefully.

He looked beautiful. _Like an Angel fallen from the sky_ , Aziraphale caught himself thinking. His smile was content, his yellow eyes – they definitely were yellow – shone with happiness, his freckles drew constellations on his pale skin, his hair looked soft, his sleeveless shirt suggested a lean body and showed lithe arms that could however easily lift his own weight, as Aziraphale had seen. He noticed the tattoo of a snake under his ear, as well, and the hint of a bigger one on his back.

“Coming?” Crowley asked, a smile in his voice when Aziraphale didn’t follow.

Aziraphale gulped and walked up to him, trying not to be too obvious in how unsettled Crowley made him feel. He couldn’t quite understand it himself.

“So, Youssef said you were a magician?” Crowley asked, walking as he introduced people to Aziraphale and pointed out important things to be aware of – which would soon be taken down, but they always reassembled the circus the same way.

“Yes. I do comedy acts with magic tricks,” he explained.

Crowley arched an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve never really enjoyed magic tricks.”

“Why?” Aziraphale played with his hands, suddenly self-conscious. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want Crowley to dislike him because he wasn’t performing what he enjoyed.

“I don’t know, once you figure out how they’re done, it just feels… dull. Don’t you lose interest in magic acts when you know what’s happening?”

“It’s not about what is happening anymore, when you know. It’s about how it’s done. I can appreciate a well-done sleight of hand. It’s not the same as not knowing the trick at all, but it is still interesting. And you can never know all the tricks,” he said enthusiastically, waving his hands as he babbled about magic. 

One thing he was sure about was his love for magic and magic tricks. It had always fascinated him, and even after all these years still amazed him. He knew he wasn’t the best at it, but he tried hard, and he was always very enthusiastic about it. He didn't feel that way about anything else, except food, maybe. He had to admit he did enjoy a good meal as much as a well-performed act of magic.

“Never really thought about that,” Crowley nodded. “I guess that's pretty cool, too.”

“It is rather jolly, my dear.”

“My dear?” Crowley pouted, more in an attempt to hide a smile than anything else.

“Oh, I hope that is okay…”

“Sure. It’s just…” he was searching for his words, trailing off, before he sighed with a vague gesture. “Nothing.”

Aziraphale followed Crowley out, meeting a few more performers and workers. He took his time to remember their names and talk a bit with each of them and thank them for their time before they moved on to someone else or when the performers went back to what they were doing. Crowley kept smiling as he watched him do so, never once looking exasperated. He was surprised, but he waited patiently every time.

Crowley then guided them toward the trailers they were sleeping in, and opened one. “That’s your home, for now. Youssef told me we’d wait to see if you can share a trailer with someone else. I’m in the left one,” Crowley said, pointing at the bigger trailer next to Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale walked inside, putting down his coat on the bed and his suitcase on the ground. 

“So, how did you end up here?” Crowley asked from the entrance of the trailer, his hands casually shoved in the small pockets of his pants. He almost looked sheepish, as if he didn’t want to intrude on Aziraphale’s personal space or life.

“I got lucky, I guess,” Aziraphale started, an inviting smile on his face.

While he talked, Crowley slowly entered the trailer and relaxed a bit, looking more confident as he listened. Aziraphale explained how he had been looking for a job when he had heard about an opportunity at the circus passing through town. He had never thought he would get the job, but Youssef’s father – who had inherited the circus from his own father – had hired him with a smile and with great relief that he was there at the right time and the right place.

“Have you ever been in a circus?” Crowley asked, curious.

“I’ve never worked at one,” Aziraphale said, his hands carefully folded in front of him. “What about you? Youssef said you were the new acrobat.”

“Ugh,” Crowley let out, dragging the vowel into something a bit too dramatic. “He has to stop saying that. It’s not untrue, but I’ve been working here for more a few years now. It was a ‘right time, right place’ situation as well, I guess.” There was a small silence, that Aziraphale let drag, in case Crowley wanted to add something, but he clapped his hand suddenly. “Right, I should go help them. I’ll come by later. We’ll be moving during the night.”

Aziraphale nodded, Youssef having told him so earlier. “Can I help?”

“Oh, don’t worry about anything, enjoy your last lazy day. It’s probably the last one you’ll be getting in a long time. If you have any questions, try knocking on my door or just ask someone.”

Crowley left with a smile, closing the trailer’s door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the playlist!](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333274120) by [restlesslikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesslikeme) moodboard also by restlesslikeme, full link [here on tumblr](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333275245)
> 
> Beta'd by [runningturnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningturnip)  
> Art by [cassieoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh)  
> Emotional support, plot helper, first reader, amazing person: [Justafewthingstosay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay)

Aziraphale sighed once he was left alone, sitting in his new bed. The trailer was small, with only the bare necessities. A bed, a toilet, some cupboards. It was more than enough for him and the little suitcase he carried. His luggage contained mostly books that would easily find their place. He always carried as many books as he could with him. 

Books, food and magic seemed to be the three pillars in his life. They soothed him, made him feel good, made him feel himself. He was happiest when he could have all three. And a cup of hot cocoa, if he could. He did tend to forget about it often when he was reading, but it was still reassuring to have a full mug by his side.

He carefully took out the books from his suitcase freeing them from their stifling prison, and put them down gently on the flat surface next to his bed. It would do for a nice, small library, he thought with a smile. He wished he could carry more books around, but he had decided to lead a simpler life. He had been feeling out of place for a long time, and he had thought trying new experiences would help him. He had never been part of a travelling circus before, and he hoped he was suited for it. Youssef’s father had warned him of the harsh conditions and the amount of work it meant. He had never been very physical, nor tried to travel the world – except for a trip or two to Brittany for their renowned crêpes – or even England itself. He felt better when he was settled, but if travelling would help him find his home, he’d rather be on the move, with limited access to books and gastronomic food than sulking about how he couldn’t find happiness.

Money was among the warnings too. Youssef’s father had not wanted someone who couldn’t deal with the circus life, so he had openly presented the cons. The circus life was not one of wealth. However, money had never been a problem for Aziraphale. He had lots of it, and investments. His own feelings and happiness were not dependent on being wealthy – although, he had to concede maybe they were, because he was able to chase after this sense of belonging thanks to having enough to sustain himself through any financial problem. He would have never been able to pursue his dreams, if it wasn’t for the investments he had. It helped, but it didn’t shape him – and it certainly didn’t buy him happiness.

So he had dared to take that further step forward, and had walked right into the circus. He already felt more at home than he had ever felt before. He wasn’t working yet, sure, but he had his act, and he loved what he had made of it. It was light, it was uplifting, it would make people laugh and smile, and it involved magic. Aziraphale didn’t need much more.

The circus had Crowley, too, who was a real sight to behold. A strange siren who had bewitched his soul with a swift movement. That was what it felt like. Maybe he was under some spell.

He spent a long time reviewing his few interactions with Crowley, and thinking about more moments they could share. He hoped they would be able to grow closer. He needed it, as frightening as that sounded.

Crowley came knocking on his door somewhere during his thoughts, interrupting them. Aziraphale idly glanced at his books – the only thing he had done since he had last seen Crowley. 

“Miss me?” the man grinned, his head popping through the door when Aziraphale told him to come in.

 _Yes_. He didn’t answer.

“We’ll be on the road soon, so I thought you’d like to spend some time in our trailer. It’s a bit bigger.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Aziraphale said calmly, while his brain was yelling at him to answer positively.

“I’m offering. Did I say we had wine? Because we do.”

Aziraphale didn’t ask who the ‘we’ referred to, but his interest was piqued as soon as wine was mentioned. He liked wine. Big fan of wine, him.

“If you must insist,” he eventually conceded. 

“They’re letting the drivers rest a bit more, and then we’ll be leaving,” Crowley explained as they got out.

Aziraphale did not know how long he had spent musing on the path that had taken him here (and on Crowley) but the night was now well settled over the small English village. The park was now empty of any big top or centre ring. Voices rose up into the night sky and animated the circus, but it came from small groups. There were some lights glimmering in the trailers, which were bound together and hitched to a huge truck that would drive them in the night .It seemed only a couple of groups were still outside.

The walk to Crowley's trailer was extremely short, and Aziraphale hesitated only a second before entering. When he did, he found himself walking into a cosy trailer. He was glancing everywhere to try and read something about Crowley from the way the trailer was set up. 

There were notebooks, lots of notebooks, strewn everywhere. There was a poster of someone Aziraphale was not familiar with, but he guessed she was a singer, or an actress. There were pictures of a man – Aziraphale recognized he was in Toliman circus, but he hadn’t properly met him yet – and a couple of the same woman. A curtain hid the bed at the back of the trailer. It was otherwise pretty neutral, except for some flowers and postcards.

“Sorry for the mess,” Crowley sighed as he opened a cupboard, filled to the brim with wine bottles, it seemed. “Most of these are Talisha's. I—”

“Hi, I'm Talisha,” a voice rudely interrupted Crowley as he was talking. He mockingly pretended to be hurt.

The curtain opened, almost startling Aziraphale, and he saw a young woman sitting in the top bunk bed, looking at him with a smile in her brown eyes.

Talisha looked younger than Crowley. She had bright blue hair, shorter and much curlier than Crowley's, too.

“Oh, I'm Aziraphale. I'm delighted to meet you,” he said, wondering why he felt a lump in his throat. “What do you do here?”

“She's my partner,” Crowley said.

“In life?” Aziraphale asked, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his heart and the lump growing bigger by the minute.

Talisha burst out laughing – a nice, throaty and genuine laugh – while Crowley's eyes widened.

“Oh, God, no!” Talisha shook her head. “We have a trapeze act together.”

Aziraphale released a breath he had been unintentionally holding back in a perhaps not so discreet sigh.

The young woman moved her head towards Aziraphale then winked at Crowley, trying to convey some message that Aziraphale didn't fully understand. Crowley shook his head vehemently, shushing her.

Aziraphale decided to ignore their silent conversation, as he did not know where to put himself, and looked more closely at Talisha. She was about the same height as Aziraphale, which meant that she was barely smaller than Crowley when he held himself the slinky way that he did. It seemed to be a habit. Aziraphale had noticed because he had been staring at him a lot. She held herself in a much better posture than Crowley, and her muscular arms showed years and years of training. Contrary to Crowley's, there was no doubt about her strength. Her yellow sleeveless shirt – the same as Crowley’s, probably, except for the colour – beautifully contrasted against her dark skin. The bold colours – her yellow shirt and her blue hair – married wonderfully well. She was a beautiful woman.

However, Aziraphale did not feel the attraction he had been feeling towards Crowley ever since he had first stepped foot into that circus. A feeling he still couldn’t explain. Was he attracted to Crowley? Sure, the man was beautifully handsome. Did he want to kiss him and whisper nice words into his ear? Yeah, that too. Aziraphale loved intimacy.

Did he long for a touch, look forward to hearing his voice, want to stare into his eyes for hours? Yes. And that was what bothered Aziraphale, because this was not how he usually felt about anyone, ever. 

“So, you’re a magician?” Talisha asked him, and he jumped back into the present conversation.

 _Don’t look at Crowley_ , he thought, right before his traitorous eyes went ahead and lingered on Crowley. Why he couldn’t control his damn eyes and his damn body, he had no idea.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the playlist!](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333274120) by [restlesslikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesslikeme)  
> 
> 
> Beta'd by [runningturnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningturnip)  
> Art by [cassieoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh)  
> Emotional support, plot helper, first reader, amazing person: [Justafewthingstosay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay)

Crowley was staring at Aziraphale, his eyes following every move the man made. He was learning how his hands closed around his wine glass, how his whole face smiled as well as his mouth, how his eyes shone when he talked about something he liked. He was learning how his laugh sounded, how he pronounced some words – especially 'Crowley' and 'my dear' -, how his tongue ran over his lips when he took a sip of wine.

Aziraphale was enticing. Crowley had not been able to think about anything else but him all day, and he couldn't explain it. He didn't recall being that attracted to someone – especially someone whom he had just met – and he didn't know what to do with it. His instinct told him to sit back and wait, and he probably should. It would complicate everything, to start dating a colleague. Oh, but what a colleague…

Crowley had only briefly glanced over when he had been interrupted in his rehearsal, and his sight wasn’t the greatest so he hadn’t really noticed him. When he had sauntered closer to Youssef and the new man, that’s when he had  _ really _ noticed him. He had stared at him would be a more accurate description. Aziraphale looked adorable upon first meeting him. His cheeks were red because of the welcoming warmth of the circus and his eyes already shone with amazement. His blue eyes – not blue, Crowley concluded later, even if he still couldn’t pinpoint the exact colour – were the first thing Crowley couldn’t tear his eyes away from. When he finally did, he noticed that Aziraphale wasn’t adorable. Aziraphale was handsome. He had white curls that framed his round face. His skin looked like it was soft. Crowley wanted to run his fingers over his cheeks to verify that theory, and he fought down his urge not to do it.

Aziraphale dressed oddly. Not odd-odd, but he dressed like an a grandfather, which he wasn't. He wore light-coloured clothes – which contrasted in a lovely way against Crowley's darker fashion tones – including a tartan sweater and a blue-ish shirt that complemented his eyes. Not that Crowley stared (he had).

That night, he found out that there was a detail he hadn't noticed in Aziraphale's clothes. He couldn't have.

He held his breath when Aziraphale struggled to take his sweater off, revealing suspenders. Those were absolutely not necessary, Crowley thought as his mind wandered and he was thinking about seizing them to bring Aziraphale close to him, always closer, right up against him.

Talisha's elbow against Crowley's ribs shook him back to the present. He responded with an ungrateful noise and a glare at the young woman who smiled back.

Crowley shook his head and focused on Aziraphale again, definitely not staring at his messed up hair as he absently ruffled it back into position – which did not work and only hypnotized Crowley more. He had never felt this attracted to someone. It was beyond physical or romantic attraction, and he did not understand why or how such a thing could happen. He couldn't tear his eyes away, he couldn't think about anything else – he had almost dropped whatever he had been holding more than once when he was helping earlier during the day – he craved any look, touch or word from Aziraphale. 

“I should go,” Talisha said, and Crowley painfully tore his eyes away from Aziraphale’s. He didn’t know how long he had just spent looking at him, but it must have been a long time. And Aziraphale had looked back. “I have to see… Youssef…”

By now, Crowley knew when she was lying. He had first met her when he had started at the circus. He wasn’t supposed to do a trapeze act as well as his aerial silk one, but Talisha’s father was growing old and chose to retire. Her father was a childhood friend of Youssef’s father, and both had grown up in the circus. They had raised their children – Youssef was older than Talisha – in Toliman, and grown old in it. The circus was their whole life, so he now helped manage and organise, along with Youssef’s father.

Talisha had been left without a partner she trusted. It was easy to throw yourself in your father’s arms and trust him to catch you. It was less easy to trust a stranger. Talisha had not been the kindest person when she had first met Crowley. She had just fallen in the net because her temporary partner had not caught her in time, and she was not in the best mood. Crowley adapted, let her vent, and then suggested he helped her. She was a fierce kid, and she needed someone to be able to match her personality, or at least to deal with it. Crowley always went along with her jokes and he played up their banter as much as she did.

Their trapeze act worked well, because she had trusted him, for some reason Crowley didn’t understand, but that he was glad had happened. He loved her, even if they never said things like that, because bantering was a much better way to show that. He’d never had any children, but he felt like Talisha was that to him. 

Shaking his thoughts away, Crowley suddenly realised they were alone, and that the trailers had started again, when Aziraphale muttered something in his drink. They had been drinking for most of the night – not getting drunk, but enjoying a good bottle and sharing different stories.

“Why did she wink?” Aziraphale repeated, once the glass wasn’t in his mouth’s way.

Had she winked? She did that a lot. Especially when there was a beautiful human being around the same age as Crowley in the room. She had been trying to get them closer all night, Crowley could tell. She liked to tease him about things like that. Crowley figured she was projecting. Her father was a divorced man, and she didn’t see her mother much anymore. Her father had told Crowley – after a threatening speech that if he ever hurt her, he knew where he lived, and lived close to him – that his daughter liked to scheme to get people together. It was harmless, and quite honestly funny sometimes – especially when Crowley returned the favour and elbowed her every time she was talking to a young woman. She always got incredibly flustered when Crowley would do it and would shoo him away.

“Oh, she does that,” Crowley remembered to answer. “I’m sorry, did you want to go while the drivers were taking a break?”

Crowley ignored the disappointment that briefly clouded Aziraphale’s face, although it comforted him – he would have been disappointed if Aziraphale had gone.

“It’s quite nice in here,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley nodded in answer.

Now that Talisha was gone, Crowley wasn’t sure what to talk about. He knew deep down what he  _ wanted _ to talk about – or do – but it was probably not the most appropriate behaviour towards someone he had just met. But then again, Crowley didn’t really mind about being appropriate, most of the time.

“Oh, I think I drank too much…” Aziraphale said, his half-empty glass held clumsily in his hand, proving his point.

“It's fine, angel,” Crowley said, his hand waving as if to chase the sentence away.

Both men stiffened when Crowley's words dawned on them. Angel.  _ Angel _ . He had called him angel.  _ Angel _ .

It sounded right. It sounded natural. Everything about them was like this. Natural. As if they were meant for each other. Crowley didn't believe in things like this. Did he? He didn't. Definitely not.

But for lack of better words, he felt complete with Aziraphale. And ‘angel’ sounded like a perfect fit for him.

“Angel…” Aziraphale repeated, echoing Crowley's thoughts.

He wanted to add something, but refrained from it, closing his mouth and staring down at his glass, as if the answer of the universe was written on it. Crowley swallowed. Aziraphale's reddening cheeks just pushed him to want to use it again. He might use it again. He wanted to use it again. Aziraphale already had a name Crowley only used for him. He already had a place in Crowley’s heart, he realised when he followed Aziraphale’s hand, bringing his glass up to empty it, then stared at his lips, red from the wine. Aziraphale licked and pursed his lips and Crowley fought the urge to reach out, and bit back a groan.

If it came down to him, he would have already pinned Aziraphale to the cupboard-seat and kissed him. He would have pushed him against the pillows Talisha had put there – what a clever idea – and he would have shown him just how enticed he was with him.

He didn’t do any of that. He stared and daydreamed, in a very obvious way, but at least he didn’t act upon it.

“So, er—I—” Aziraphale blinked, pausing to start again without stuttering. “Ta-Talisha… Why does she live here?”

Crowley was glad they were talking about a third person, but also frustrated that it was cutting his thoughts off.

“Independence,” he shrugged.

“With you?”

“Well,” Crowley said, dragging the vowel a bit too long. “It’s better than living with your father. Says she loves him, but he snores too much. She never lived anywhere else than on a trailer with her father, so she accepted when the condition was that we would share a trailer. I didn’t mind at the time. And we give each other plenty of space and privacy. I think that’s exactly what she wanted, because there wasn’t much of space and privacy left after nineteen years with her father.”

“I see,” Aziraphale nodded, then he nodded some more, thinking at the same time. “You didn’t mind ‘at the time’? You mind now? Did something happen?”

_ You _ . But he couldn’t say that, and he couldn’t be sure it was that. But it would be nice to have a place for himself to spend more time with Aziraphale. Maybe he could arrange something. He could ask Aziraphale, and see with Youssef or his father.

“Nope,” he struggled to say, wondering if Aziraphale heard it or not. “She’s a nice kid, and she’s not bad to live with. She has a lot of energy, though. I like quiet evenings in, better.”

Aziraphale nodded, playing with the stem of his glass. They continued talking about Talisha, then moved on to subjects that centered more around themselves, learning about the other, getting acquainted with the other’s presence, already growing used to the other’s voice.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the playlist!](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333274120) by [restlesslikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesslikeme)  
> 
> 
> Beta'd by [runningturnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningturnip)  
> Art by [cassieoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh)

Crowley wasn’t paying much attention to Talisha, who was on her phone. He was focusing on his own act and his own rehearsal. So, when she asked him if he could answer some questions, he looked down at her, intrigued.

“What type of questions?”

“Oh, I’m just doing some of those internet tests, thought it’d be funny to have you do them too. You just have to answer some things…”

She was being vague on purpose, Crowley knew it. But he could use the distraction, he thought as his eyes caught a glimpse of the ground.

“Okay, so… What’s your favourite season?”

It went on for a long time, with questions about his favourite colour, his favourite movie among a list of either blockbusters or chick-flick movies, his favourite flower, his favourite chocolate dessert, if he preferred spaghetti or penne… 

“This test is long… What is it even about?” Crowley asked after a while, taking a break, wrapped like a cocoon in his silk. It was warm and comfortable inside, and he was cut away from the rest of the world. Everything he liked.

He could still hear Talisha’s voice, however, and her gradually annoying questions.

“Tell me it’s over,” Crowley groaned, popping his head out of his reassuring silky seat.

Talisha grinned at him. “Sure, last two questions.”

Crowley sighed and disappeared into his cocoon again, muttering the last two answers, about some ice cream and cake preferences.

“Results are in! Okay, I actually made you do about six tests.” Crowley shook his head, even if no one could see him. “And they’re all  _ very  _ interesting.”

“Is that so?”

He had decided that he would talk through the silk, letting Talisha push it slightly so it would swing slowly, almost rocking him to sleep. The results of the tests did not let him doze off, however.

“Four say that you are, indeed, attracted by or in love with Aziraphale. The other two confirm that he is, too.”

Crowley squeaked, then fell silent.  _ What sort of test was that?! _ He almost voiced it, but he figured that if he said nothing, Talisha would think he had gone. Or fallen asleep. She would let him be, anyway.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Talisha said, very unhelpfully.

He had forgotten, though, and he took a deep breath through his nose. It was warm, too warm. He shouldn’t have wrapped himself in this damned prison. But he couldn’t let Talisha see him, now.

Her hand stopped pushing him, and simply rested on his back. He could hear her breathe against the silk and he waited in silence.

“I know they’re stupid tests, but… I agree,” she said slowly.

“Love doesn’t work like that,” Crowley eventually said, playing with his hands.

“I know,” she whispered.

“Why—” Crowley sighed, rubbing his face. She could be annoying. Especially when she was right. “Why do you go to such length for him? You never did that before.”

Talisha’s fingers drew patterns on Crowley’s back as she was thinking, taking her time to form an answer. “It’s… It’s something you guys have,” she explained, trying to put words on something she hadn’t voiced before – not to Crowley, at least. He felt her own back against his, and he almost reached out to comfort her. He could feel when she was troubled and he always wanted to make her feel better. 

He didn’t move. “You’re… I don’t know. It feels like you belong together. You… you complete each other, if that makes sense? I was messing around before, but it was for fun. But with Aziraphale… I… I don’t want you to miss out on each other. I know I’m an idealist when it comes to love. I’m not stupid, I know how it ends. But the journey’s beautiful and full of good moments, and love and wonder and other great feelings. I still believe that if two people match… they’ll make it work. Somehow. Even if they need a push towards each other.” She took a deep breath, and when Crowley thought she was done, she talked again, “You deserve someone who loves you, Crowley.”

It hit harder than any of her previous words. It reached inside Crowley’s body and closed a fist around his heart, setting a heavy weight on his chest. A lump formed in his throat as tears threatened to fall.

Talisha sighed, the warmth of her back disappearing. Her hand did not return. “I know I shouldn’t get involved in people’s love lives but… But, you know… I care about you. Love you and all that stuff. And you know I say it even less than you do, but it’s true. You’re the person I trust the most in the world. Shit, I look up to you so freaking much and I wish you could see just how beautiful and wonderful you are. Az—Aziraphale sees it. He doesn’t even try to hide it.”

Crowley stared at the inside of his dark silk, tears slowly running down his cheeks as Talisha’s words made their way through his body, to his brain, to his mind, permeating his whole soul. It resonated with him more than he could even begin to admit.

He loved the kid, of course he did, but he didn’t say it much. He showed it, he showered her with love, in his own way. He loved deeply, he knew he did. But he never thought about people loving him back. It never occurred to him that people did. It wasn’t even conscious, it wasn’t that he thought he wasn’t enough. He did think people couldn’t love him, though. It was instilled in him. It had always been, for as long as he could remember. People couldn’t love him. People… shouldn’t love him? It was the feeling he had when he was with Aziraphale. He shouldn’t love him.

Hearing Talisha tell him that she loved him felt too overwhelming. Hearing her tell him that he deserved love, that Aziraphale loved him, broke Crowley’s heart.

“He loves me…” Crowley whispered, then paused. “Why?”

And it hit him. There wasn’t a reason for Crowley’s love for Aziraphale. He had loved him unconditionally the moment he had stepped into the circus, the moment Crowley had caught a glimpse of those white curls and those blue-grey-green-whatever-they-wanted-to-be eyes. Maybe someone could love Crowley, too.

“You’re a good man,” he heard Talisha whisper. She was back near the silk, and he felt her arms hugging the whole cocoon. “You know where to find me,” she said, and Crowley knew he was alone when he couldn’t feel the warmth of her arms anymore.

He brought his hand up to his cheek, looking at his fingers, damp with his own tears. 

He couldn’t decide if they were happy or sad tears. Maybe they were a bit of both.

In his suffocating cocoon, Crowley let the tears flow freely. He didn’t cry much, but he felt his body needed to, at that moment.

His chest felt heavy, heavy with the weight of the whole world, it seemed.

He couldn’t remember a time when he had felt like he deserved any love. It had never been on his mind. Nobody had told him he could be loved. He had only vague memories of his mother. He remembered loving her, loving her like she was the whole world, loving her as if she was the creator of the whole world, loving her as no creature could be loved. But he had only ever associated pain as an answer to this love. He couldn’t remember being loved back by her. He couldn’t remember being hated by her, either.

Maybe that was where it had started. Maybe that was why he thought people were… neutral about him. He didn’t think anybody hated him. He didn’t assume anyone loved him, either. 

When Crowley finally joined Talisha, she climbed down her trapeze to walk to him. They stared at each other knowingly, then she looked away, stuffing her hands into her pockets. Crowley ruffled her hair – which she hated – and planted a kiss on her head.

“I love you,” he whispered against her hair. He never said it, but it felt good to do so. It didn’t feel wrong: it felt incredibly right to say it back, even with a delay.

“I know,” she smiled when they parted. Her face told him that it was enough lovey-dovey for the day, which is what she called it. “Now get your ass up there.”

He chuckled, turning to climb towards the trapeze.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw Aziraphale talking to Youssef. The two seemed to be discussing something they both liked, as it seemed animated – in a good way. They were both smiling, but Crowley’s attention was only on Aziraphale. He already was calling him ‘angel’, and Crowley watched as the evening light seemed to compliment Aziraphale’s shape perfectly. A far-away light created a sort of halo over his head, and Crowley knew for sure that he would never be able to get this image, or Aziraphale, out of his mind.

_ Tell him _ , a voice in his head said, but he shook the thought away.

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, only to open them to Aziraphale looking back at him. They both instantly smiled.  _ He loves me, he loves me. _ Aziraphale waved at him, then walked away with Youssef. _ Why? Why? _

_ You deserve to be loved. You’re a good man. _

Crowley cleared his mind before starting his warmup. He was good at pretending things were tickety-boo – one of Aziraphale’s expressions – and at putting things off for later. He’d think about it on another day, another week, another year, another lifetime. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the playlist!](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333274120) by [restlesslikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesslikeme)  
> 
> 
> Beta'd by [runningturnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningturnip)  
> Art by [cassieoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh)  
> Emotional support, plot helper, first reader, amazing person: [Justafewthingstosay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay)

“I hope I did good,” Aziraphale whispered, more to himself than to anyone in particular.

Crowley’s ears were never far, however, and the man appeared at his side, sliding a strong arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“I’m starting to understand magic a bit more, I think.”

That made Aziraphale smile more than he had in a long time. His whole face lit up as his spirit was immediately lifted by Crowley’s comment.

“Really?”

“Oh, you’re brilliant,” Crowley exclaimed, gesturing with his free hand as he talked. “The audience loves you!”

Aziraphale listened to the praise he hadn’t asked for, but which warmed his heart in a way other people’s words had rarely done. Crowley had been busy with his rehearsals lately, and they saw each other a bit less. They still grew closer whenever they found some time to spend together, but they didn't have as much time as before.

They didn’t touch much – sadly – but Aziraphale treasured moments like this one, where Crowley naturally snaked his arm around his neck and talked close to him. It felt intimate. Aziraphale craved intimacy with Crowley. 

They had their moments – quite a handful of them. There were lingering touches, long stares, some involuntary signs that sometimes betrayed their thoughts – Aziraphale had noticed he licked and pursed his lips more when Crowley was near. He looked at his lips a lot, too. His whole body seemed attracted to Crowley, and Aziraphale sometimes wondered how it was not more obvious for Crowley. Then again, he sometimes saw Crowley bite his lips, or stare at him so intensely he wasn’t listening to his surroundings anymore…

Aziraphale thought Crowley liked him back. It didn’t mean he was doing something about it, because there was always this doubt hovering in his head that he was getting everything wrong, that the signals were not signals at all, but just wishful thinking. He didn’t like when his brain thought like this, but sometimes he had to, to protect himself. He didn’t want to feel the pain of rejection if he tried something and it was unreciprocated, so he didn’t. 

He settled for watching Crowley from a distance. He watched him at his multiple rehearsals, he watched him perform whenever he could, he watched him when he helped around the circus, building and taking down everything easily and professionally. Aziraphale on the other hand still needed help – help from Crowley, most of the time – to participate in the common effort of moving everything every other day.

The circus life was less tiring than he would have thought. He had never been a big sleeper; a couple of hours were usually enough for him. It was draining, but Aziraphale didn’t feel the bad kind of exhaustion. He felt the good kind, the one that made you sleep heavily at the end of the day – more heavily than two hours, at least. The satisfied exhaustion that came with the feeling of having accomplished something.

“I’m serious,” Crowley’s voice cut through his thoughts. He looked up at a grinning Crowley. “I know you don’t believe it, but I do. I don’t even know how you did your trick this time, so that was even better. When did you add that number with the book?”

“Oh, I just thought it’d be a nice touch.”

“Fits you well,” Crowley smiled.

He stared at his eyes, and moved his torso a bit away as if calculating something. When he seemed to be done, he kept the distance between them, his eyes wandering to Aziraphale’s lips. Aziraphale looked at Crowley’s lips, up at his eyes, but then glanced away. The intensity of Crowley’s stare was making him self-conscious. Did he have something on his lips? If so, could Crowley just bloody kiss it away already?

He blinked, looking up again, mirroring Crowley’s intense stare on his lips. He was suddenly aware of everything about Crowley. He was still dressed in his tight, long-sleeved, half-transparent outfit. He didn’t smell like anything other than his own self – everyone had a smell – mixed with sweat and fabric. He smelled like his performance act. 

They were close, so close, Crowley’s arm still around Aziraphale’s shoulders. They just had to lean in a bit, the slightest push forward and…

“Aziraphale,” a voice cut the moment and they parted quickly, putting a foot of distance between them. Youssef looked undisturbed.

He was wearing his ringmaster outfit, red and green mixing and marrying in his otherwise white clothes. His top hat was white with golden ornamentations and Youssef’s snake was wrapped around it, sleeping comfortably. The snake moved his head to look at Crowley – he always reacted when Crowley was around – then settled back against the hat. Youssef’s green eyes shone with excitement; he always looked less tired when he was performing. 

“They loved the new addition,” Youssef said and Aziraphale sighed, reassured. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, tickety-boo,” he answered without thinking.

Crowley frowned, looking at him as if struck by his choice of words.

“Right. Anyway, I just wanted to say we’re glad to have you,” Youssef added, with something that resembled a smile. He didn’t smile much.

“Thank you, I’m glad to be here,” Aziraphale smiled. It was easy for him to smile. He liked smiling.

Youssef sighed, looking back at the centre ring and watching the acrobatic act, waiting for his cue to go back on.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, smiling softly, and Crowley nodded in answer. He didn’t look into Aziraphale’s eyes for long, though. Youssef’s snake – Solongo – moved again and slithered down the hat, onto Crowley, settling around his neck.

Aziraphale stared at him, booping Solongo’s nose and smiling naturally, as if snakes had always been friendly to him. Solongo was a calm snake, and Aziraphale had chuckled when he had seen him for the first time, nuzzling Crowley’s neck in a way Aziraphale wished he could do, and hissing close to his snake tattoo, as if with acknowledgement. He was adorable, really.

Aziraphale stayed backstage when Crowley moved to get ready for his other act, good-naturedly complaining about Talisha’s anticipated anger if she found him not ready. Aziraphale liked to stay behind, to watch the artists getting ready, doing breathing exercises, practising or stretching, jumping in excitement or anxiety, talking to think about something else or just to occupy themselves as they waited… It didn’t matter how long some had been doing it, stress and nerves were still here before a performance. It didn’t eat them alive or prevent them from offering a good performance, but it was there. 

Aziraphale talked with some of the other artists. He smiled when Crowley came back, his navy outfit on, with gold sequins tracing constellations. Something that represented him well.

Crowley was one to talk his anxiety out. At least, Aziraphale had always seen him needing to talk before his acts. He was always ready to lend an ear and offer comfort. He also talked with Talisha. She wasn’t as nervous as some were, as she had grown up performing, but she enjoyed talking and was close to Aziraphale and Crowley anyway. Aziraphale hadn't noticed at first that it was a sign of stress, but he had understood quickly that Crowley's rambling was just a way to focus on anything else but the act.

He watched Crowley and Talisha's performance, still blown away by their coordination and talent, appreciating the act.

Crowley called in an early night, taking advantage of the fact that they would be performing in the same place the day after and didn't need to move anything. Talisha spent the rest of the evening with her father. Youssef met with his father too, but to talk about the circus and the different acts, and what had worked and not worked that night… he worked a lot, and sometimes Aziraphale wondered if he didn't get even less sleep than he himself did.

Aziraphale stayed behind a bit, talked to some performers, then decided to get back to his trailer and read. He saw the lights turned off in Crowley and Talisha's trailer and smiled, thinking of his growing affection for the man. Sometimes, it felt great to develop feelings for someone.

“You wanted to see me?” Aziraphale asked, stepping into Youssef’s father’s office, as someone had told him he was expected there.

Youssef was standing there, along with someone else. Their back was turned to Aziraphale, so he paid attention to the person he was familiar with.

“Yes, we… We were surprised to hear this, to be honest, but your… uncle’s here?”

“My… uncle?”

“Yes. We usually like a heads-up when a family member is coming to our show, but it’s fine.”

Aziraphale frowned. What uncle? Which uncle? Did he have an uncle? He didn’t remember an uncle. He didn’t remember much. He knew he had brothers, sisters... he had siblings. Maybe? But he couldn’t place back their faces, and no one had ever tried to contact him. That was why he had waited so long before allowing himself to leave, to find himself. He had waited for someone to find him, first.

And it was confusing to suddenly have someone find him, especially when he had finally started to find himself. 

“The prodigal son returns!” The man – his uncle? – said, turning dramatically, as if he had been waiting for the right moment for maximum effect. 

Aziraphale only frowned at the strange, and oddly familiar, man, dressed only in grey, from head to toe. Not actually to toe, as he was wearing darker shoes, but he had a grey shirt, a grey scarf, a grey jacket… Many different shades of grey.

“Isn’t that what  _ you _ say?” the man added, as Aziraphale simply watched him.

The first impression emanating from him was the disdain he put in the word ‘you’, as if he hated even the concept of Aziraphale – or humanity? Was it possible to hate the entirety of humanity? Because the magician did not often use the phrase. 

“I see you’re still eating well!” the man exclaimed as if what he had said wasn’t inappropriate and couldn't be hurtful. Aziraphale did not take it personally, the man looked a bit strange and he wasn’t going to let him dictate how he should look, no matter how he was going to stare at his belly – which he did.

“Excuse me, Sir, who are you?”

Youssef was still in the room, frowning all the way through the conversation, wondering why Aziraphale’s uncle was attacking him on his weight, and more importantly, why Aziraphale didn’t seem to have the slightest clue of who this ‘uncle’ was.

“Good,” the man said, which was even more confusing. “Michael told me where you were, I wanted to check up on you. A circus! How exciting!”

He was talking and pausing at odd moments. He stopped after ‘Michael’, as if waiting for a reaction. Aziraphale didn’t even blink.

He had the nagging feeling that he knew the man, but he couldn’t figure out how he could have ever forgotten about such unusual and piercing purple eyes. He had forgotten more important stuff, probably, but eyes always made an impression on him, especially when they looked so out of this world.

He had the same feeling he had felt when he had first met Crowley. The same feeling of knowing the person he was seeing, of being familiar with them. The difference was that his body, his mind, his soul was not magnetized by the man, did not implicitly trusts him as he did Crowley, was not attracted to him. His body, mind and soul wanted to get away, to leave, to flee. His reflexes were telling him to turn away, that the man was dangerous. How, why? Aziraphale didn’t know, he just felt it.

Out of politeness, he stayed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the playlist!](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333274120) by [restlesslikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesslikeme)  
> 
> 
> Beta'd by [runningturnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningturnip)  
> Art by [cassieoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh)  
> Emotional support, plot helper, first reader, amazing person: [Justafewthingstosay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay)

Crowley stretched his arms and shook out his hands, relaxing his fingers, taking a short break in his training. He knew he was a bit behind Talisha, as she only had her trapeze act to focus on – and many more years of experience than he had. It helped that extra time spent training was a good solution to avoiding Aziraphale. To avoid thinking about him, too. Yes, he was in love. It didn’t mean he had to do something about it. Talisha would have already smashed his head against a wall if she knew he was training so much partly to avoid thinking about or talking to Aziraphale. She had toned down the winks and elbow nudges, but she still looked at him with big eyes when they happened to hang out with Aziraphale – which they still did, a lot, because Crowley couldn’t just stop seeing him, and certainly didn’t have a good excuse to avoid him completely.

He looked around, below himself, and gulped . He closed his eyes briefly to center himself.

When he opened them again, they fell on a figure he did not recognize. Or did he? He felt like he knew the person, but as he watched the man walking away, he looked more closely at his face – as much as he could – and concluded that he did not know him. Maybe he had caught a glimpse of his face in a crowd before.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from him. He could see the entirely grey outfit from where he stood.

He looked… out of place, Crowley thought as he narrowed his eyes. Crowley had a strange feeling about him. He was too swanky, he looked too good, even from afar. Crowley rarely hated people, and he very rarely decided upon a first meeting what he thought of someone.

This man, Crowley _felt_ , was not good. He looked wrong, in this circus setting. It didn’t feel right, to see him walking down a circus aisle, looking very pleased with himself. The smug, arrogant smile was sufficient. Crowley could see and feel it even from where he was. Crowley decided this man should not be trusted. His guts were telling him to jump at him and beat him up, as if he represented something that Crowley hated, while unable to put his finger on what exactly it was. 

If the man felt a burning stare on him, he did not turn. Crowley was grateful for that, because he was unable to tone down the daggers he was sending with his glare. He blinked when the man disappeared from his view.

What was that about? He thought as he took the trapeze again, and stepped into the air. His body relaxed and he focused on a point in the sky, balancing himself faster and faster. He changed his position, his head upside down and arms strongly framing his face. While flying – it felt like flying – his eyes caught another glimpse of the grey-suited man, and Crowley’s eyes blurred as his breath caught up in his throat. His eyes fell to the ground below as the man disappeared from his sight again.

He knew this face, he knew these clothes. He shook his head, and suddenly he felt the fear slowly creeping up on him again. A fear he hadn’t experienced in a while. A fear he thought he had overcome. Apparently, he hadn’t.

Constant fear. Fear of falling. _Falling. Falling. Fuck._

Crowley took a deep, shaky breath.

 _You could fall, fall so easily, fall like you fell for Aziraphale._ No, not Aziraphale. Anything but him.

_Fall. The Fall. A. Z. Fell._

Fall.

Crowley couldn’t look away from the ground. The ground. Calling him, almost. He was going to fall. He was bound to fall. _Why? Why? Why do we fall? Why are so many falling? What happened? Were we not enough? Were we not your creation?_

Whose creation? ‘We’?

_Fall._

Crowley could feel himself sliding from the trapeze.

 _Do I deserve this?_ Deserve what? Falling wouldn’t hurt. Falling was part of the circus life. Falling was part of the process of standing back up.

_Falling was a dishonour. Falling was painful. Falling meant you didn’t belong._

Belong where? Belong with whom? Crowley belonged here. He had proved that, had proved it again.

 _Too many questions, so many questions. Always the questions. Never an answer. Fall._ Fall.

 _You’re falling,_ Crowley’s mind yelled at him.

Aziraphale. Aziraphale. _Aziraphale didn’t fall. He never fell. Why?_

He was a magician, he didn’t have to fall.

_He could fall. He never does. Why?_

He didn’t deserve to fall. Aziraphale was a good man, a good angel. His angel.

 _You’re not you. Fall. You’re something else. Fall. You were wrong. Fall. You disappointed Her. Fall. You shouldn’t have. Fall._ Fall. Fall...

“Crowley!”

Crowley opened his eyes, gasped.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

_You can’t understand, you never could. I don’t want you to be able to understand._

Crowley groaned. If his mind could just shut up.

He had fallen. _Millennia ago._ Had slipped and fallen into the net.

“Take my hand.”

Crowley finally looked at Aziraphale. He was holding out his hand, worry and care painted on his face. He stared at the familiar face, the familiar clothes. Aziraphale didn’t have any sweater on, his suspenders colourful spots that Crowley hung onto to tell himself that he was in a safe place.

When he reached out with his own hand, Crowley felt like he was reaching out for more than just help to stand. He couldn’t understand it. A lot of feelings involving Aziraphale were enigmatic. 

“There you go, now just breathe,” Aziraphale talked slowly, running a strong hand up and down Crowley’s back when he was on his feet. His other hand held Crowley’s. “I’m here, it’s fine. You’re fine. Anything broken?”

Crowley shook his head, his long hair falling in front of his eyes. His breathing calmed down to a less-panicky rhythm. Aziraphale looked up, and Crowley’s breath left his body as their eyes met.

 _Do something. Say something._ The voice was back in his head, but kinder, softer. He never listened to this one. He always listened to the one from earlier. The bad one.

“Doyouwanttogooutonadate?” he breathed out suddenly.

He was panting – which could happen when you held your breath after having hyperventilated – and his red hair hid half of his own face, but also Aziraphale’s.

“You’re in no shape for a date,” Aziraphale said after the longest silence to have ever silenced.

Crowley looked away, then back at Aziraphale’s eyes. “That’s not a no,” he whispered, a question in his voice. He couldn’t repeat it, but he hoped Aziraphale would understand.

The hand on his back – which was resting on his lower back more than anything else – disappeared. Crowley felt and saw the fingers thread through his hair, and shivered when Aziraphale’s eyes revealed themselves fully as soon as Aziraphale carefully secured the wild strands behind an ear. They didn’t look away from the other’s eyes, not even when Aziraphale’s fingers trailed down his face, from his ear to his jaw, which he cupped.

“It’s far from a no,” he stated, more confident than Crowley felt.

They looked down at the same time. One licked his lips, the other pursed his lips. Both were longing for the same thing, Crowley hoped. He knew, even. He knew but he refused to know.

He was still holding Aziraphale’s hand.

His brain must have disconnected at some point. He never was able to remember what happened between the moment he was staring at Aziraphale’s lips and the moment he felt those lips against his. He didn’t try to remember or understand. He gave in to the feeling he had been craving.

Aziraphale’s lips were as soft as his skin, Crowley concluded when he brought a hand up to cup his cheek, his thumb caressing the skin lovingly. Aziraphale’s lips were not gentle, however. They were hungry and eager, and so their kiss turned hungry as their tongues met.

Crowley had kissed people before. Sure, the feeling of a tongue demanding access to his mouth had felt great. Hands on his hair had felt good, too.

Kissing Aziraphale involved more than just a tongue and fingers. He could feel every square inch of skin that Aziraphale ran his hands over – it tickled in a good way as the fingers discovered Crowley’s hair. He could smell him, too. He didn’t have a different scent than he usually did, but it seemed stronger from so close. Books and his cologne. His tongue was warm and surprisingly tasted of cocoa. Crowley didn’t think the taste could linger long enough for him to be able to identify it.

Aziraphale whimpered when Crowley’s fist clenched on his hair, without him really meaning to, and Crowley moaned in response. It sounded like music to his ears. Music to accompany the clumsy dance of their tongues and of their fingers, exploring the other’s hair and neck.

They parted, and Crowley sighed, closing his eyes as Aziraphale’s forehead naturally came to rest against his. They were close, so close, and Crowley wanted to kiss him again, wanted to show him just how much he liked him, appreciated him, loved him. But it felt nice, to breathe the same air between them.

Crowley leaned against Aziraphale’s hand when he cupped his face, and put his own hand over the other’s, opening his eyes.

“Green,” he whispered before he could catch himself.

It had become his own little game, to try and see which colour Aziraphale’s eyes had taken, whenever he could be close enough to see it. They were a beautiful shade of light green at this moment, with hints of blue on the sides. His golden and brown spots were hidden by the black, dilated pupil, but Crowley knew they were there. 

Aziraphale chuckled, bringing his head closer to drop a kiss on his cheek. Crowley’s head found a place in Aziraphale’s neck and he settled comfortably in it as they both moved their arms to hug the other. 

“Oh, thank fuck!”

Both men startled, putting a foot of distance between themselves as they turned as one man towards Talisha, who was looking at them with an innocent smile.

“Sorry,” she said, way more quietly than her exclamation had been. “Are you fine, Crowley?” she then asked, looking serious again.

Crowley’s throat decided to emanate some sort of sound, that could have sounded like a ‘what?’ but realistically sounded more like his trademarked ‘ngk?’.

“You fell? I was told you did. Unless it was a joke…”

“Oh, no, I did fall,” Crowley admitted, rubbing his neck, missing Aziraphale’s hands on it.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine, I just got… distracted.”

“By what? By whom? By him? Because I’ll bring you back from the dead and kill you if you fall. Or I’ll come back from the dead and kill you if you drop me!”

Crowley knew better than to laugh. Talisha could be scary, and he understood her. If he wasn’t careful enough, she could get injured.

“Not by him. Just… It’s fine, I got scared for a second, that’s all.”

Talisha narrowed her eyes, reading his face for a trace of a lie. She didn’t find any, and her feature softened back into her usual smiling face.

“I’m so happy for you two!” she exclaimed, hugging them both.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the playlist!](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333274120) by [restlesslikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesslikeme)  
> 
> 
> Beta'd by [runningturnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningturnip)  
> Art by [cassieoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh)  
> Emotional support, plot helper, first reader, amazing person: [Justafewthingstosay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay)

Getting rid of Talisha had been easy – she had left promptly by herself. Getting rid of the newly acquired awkwardness between them was not that easy.

Aziraphale was thinking about how to clear out the air between them as they walked towards their trailers. They hadn’t really settled on a destination, but it seemed like a good way to retreat back to something familiar. 

Aziraphale could still feel his lips tingling where Crowley had kissed him, and his hair ached to be pulled at again. He didn’t know how to voice those desires, though. He had acted on impulse. If Crowley wasn’t going to take the first step, then he would. And now that he had, he wasn’t sure he could do it again. He wanted to reach out for Crowley’s hand, but he kept his own clasped behind his back. 

“Do you—er... Want to come in?” Aziraphale offered lamely to Crowley who sighed audibly. 

“Yes, please,” wasn’t the answer Aziraphale had expected, but it sent shivers down his spine anyway.

It felt incredibly awkward, to stand in the small trailer together, not knowing where to put themselves. They stood, then Aziraphale offered to sit on his bed. They sat as far from each other as they possibly could, avoiding the other’s eyes.

“So…”

“You…”

They both started at the same time and stopped talking at the same time.

Aziraphale tried to relax. He tried to not play with his hands, putting them on both sides of himself, clasping the bedsheet, as if it would help him. Crowley was scratching his elbow nervously. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Aziraphale eventually asked, his shoulders slumping as he realised he would not gather the courage to kiss Crowley again.

“Yes!” Crowley instantly said.

Aziraphale was about to stand up, but he stopped suddenly when he felt Crowley’s fingers on his hand. He blinked a few times, waiting for something. When nothing happened, he turned his head towards Crowley, finally meeting his eyes. He was looking at him softly, trying hard not to look away. Aziraphale held his gaze, trying to convey how he felt, but what he was unable to say.

Crowley eventually moved, his free hand moving up. It didn’t go all the way to Aziraphale’s face – he noticed Crowley was shaking – but it grabbed a suspender, and pulled Aziraphale closer.

They met awkwardly, somewhere in the middle. They missed the other’s mouths in their first attempt but they did not comment on it, quickly finding each other’s lips and kissing with the same fervour as before.

Aziraphale’s hesitation flew out the window as he breathed in deeply under the kiss. It felt good, to finally be able to kiss Crowley. It felt natural. 

His fingers soon wanted more than running through hair, or closing on a neck, and they found their way down, pushing Crowley’s shirt up and finally touching his skin. Crowley inhaled deeply, and Aziraphale opened his eyes, meeting Crowley’s as they stopped kissing for a moment.

He could read a certain eagerness in his eyes, but also care. He could have sworn Crowley’s eyes were entirely golden, but his mind didn’t want to focus on that. It was too busy interpreting their silent conversation and looking to Crowley for his unspoken consent.

Aziraphale quickly pulled Crowley’s top above his head, discarding it aside as his eyes started to devour Crowley’s bare chest. He looked thinner than his strength suggested he was, and Aziraphale didn’t register much else than his tattoo. It had intrigued him ever since he had caught a glimpse of it. Crowley didn’t walk around without a t-shirt on, but his sleeveless tops had never fully hidden the huge tattoo he had on his back and which ran partly along his arms.

Aziraphale hadn’t realised it went around his chest, too. He had previously guessed it was a pair of wings, but seeing the full tattoo was mesmerizing.

“Can I?” he remembered to ask, stopping himself as his fingers almost touched it. Crowley nodded in silence and drew in a deep breath when Aziraphale finally laid his hands on his skin.

He watched Crowley close his eyes and breathe in slowly, and focused back on the tattoo, tracing the tips of the wings, which almost joined on his stomach. It looked absolutely beautiful. Crowley looked stunning. Aziraphale said so, and Crowley hid behind his hand.

Aziraphale took his hand in his own, kissing his palm, kissing his wrist, kissing his freckles all the way up his arm, kissing his jaw, and finally kissing his mouth.

“Can I see?” Aziraphale asked when they parted, playing with Crowley’s hair.

Crowley turned obligingly, sweeping his hair away from his tattoo.

“You’re so beautiful…” Aziraphale whispered.

He stared in wonder, touching the skin with extra caution . The wings were so impressive and massive, decorating Crowley’s back in such a perfect way that it took his breath away. He traced some of the feathers. The black ink was beautiful against Crowley’s pale skin. His numerous freckles still looked like constellations in Aziraphale’s eyes. It hadn’t changed, he still marvelled at them, and they filled the feathers with a poetic meaning that was probably unintended.

“I might come if you keep going,” Crowley huffed, his breath coming in short gasps.

Aziraphale had been caressing, massaging the tattoo for long minutes, mesmerized by it. He had not realised what it was doing to him, too focused on its beauty.

Crowley gasped when he leaned even closer and his lips met the man’s back. Aziraphale revelled in the gasps and moans he was triggering as he kissed his way up Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley turned his head to be able to kiss him, sighing against his mouth when their lips finally met.

Aziraphale did not mention his own tattoo. He felt self-conscious, and if Crowley wasn’t going to see it, it was fine by him. He had never really liked tattoos on himself. Tattoos fascinated him, but not on him. On others – on Crowley especially – it looked beautiful. Aziraphale’s did not, at least not in his own eyes. Crowley would find out at some point, but not now. Now was about showing how much he was attracted to Crowley. How much he loved him.  _ Love _ . It sounded right.

Aziraphale loved a lot. It was as if his subconscious loved everything automatically. He was programmed to love. He always felt and saw something good in people. He liked to believe they could always be loved, that they always deserved love. Some strayed a bit too much, but none ever felt unforgivable in his mind.  _ Unforgivable. _ The word echoed in his mind, without him being able to place the memory linked to it. 

He didn’t want to think about that anyway. It was such a common and silly word that he didn’t believe in. And he was too focused on Crowley, on Crowley’s skin and freckles – such beautiful freckles – and his tattoos – such great tattoos, and his mouth – such a great mouth, too.

They kissed in that weird angle for a while, then Aziraphale’s lips kissed back up his cheeks, and stopped at his smaller tattoo, the small snake above his cheekbone. Crowley arched his back, and Aziraphale brought his hands around his waist, hugging him from behind. He placed his hands on the tips of the wings, nipping at Crowley’s ear, taking in his gasps and whimpers. He wanted to take his time, to show how much he cared for Crowley. But it seemed His body was not patient enough for that. He acted on impulse when it came to Crowley. He felt that something should be bothering him about that. He was not, and nothing was going to get in the way of his feelings.

He tightened his grip on Crowley’s stomach, nuzzling his neck at the same time. He was in the perfect position to breathe against his skin and take in all that Crowley was. A gasping mess, wriggling against him, his body asking, begging for more. He smelt like sweat and the peculiar smell of a trapeze. His skin tasted like salt. It felt great against Aziraphale’s tongue. The muscles in his neck uncontrollably contracted whenever Aziraphale would nip at it, and his chest raised and lowered abruptly whenever Aziraphale found a new sensitive spot and Crowley had to take a deep breath.

He ran one hand through Crowley’s hair, turning his head towards him to kiss those delicious lips, the whimpers getting to him. They kissed open-mouthed, messily, with no care for romanticism, with no care for the world, with no care for the position they were in. They wanted to feel the other’s lips, the other’s breath, the other’s skin against their own. 

Aziraphale’s mind was clouded by desire, and even if he wanted to stretch this out for as long as possible, his hand found its way further down Crowley’s stomach, to his crotch. 

Crowley moaned and closed his fist on Aziraphale’s curls, tugging slightly, throwing his head back. Aziraphale bit down on his neck at the same time, as he could not kiss him again.

They stayed like this for a moment. He was rubbing Crowley through the fabric of his pants, and Crowley was arching his back, his hand holding tight on Aziraphale’s hair, driving his head even deeper against his exposed neck.

Just as he was about to say something, Crowley turned, cupping his face and clasping their lips together again, pushing him against the small bed. His hand, still on his hair, softened the abrupt contact between the flat surface at the feet of Aziraphale’s bed and his head. He could not have cared less about the uncomfortable pillow, as Crowley’s hand fumbled with his shirt, unbuttoning it quickly.

Their bare chests brushed against each other, and both men sighed, burying their heads in the other’s neck. Their hips met on a sudden thrust, both of them looking for any form of friction, both of them looking for release. 

Crowley muffled a sound against Aziraphale’s chest when their hands pushed the other’s pants enough to reach in and finally touch the other’s cock.

Aziraphale thought he would instantly combust as he felt the long fingers wrap up around his length, and he pushed against the hand. His free hand found its way up Crowley’s back, and he scratched the skin as his pleasure increased.

It didn’t last long. Crowley nibbled at his chest, and they came quickly, the back of Aziraphale’s pushing against the hard surface, leaving a mark that would disappear before he really realised it. Crowley bit down on his neck at the same time, leaving a mark that would not disappear before he realised it. A mark he would treasure in the secret of the lapel of his shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the two beautiful and main art pieces for this fic from cassieoh [here](https://cassieoh.tumblr.com/post/190712738609/my-pieces-for-the-utterly-delightful-fic-toliman)  
> Don't forget to check and give some love, because the art is absolutely brilliant!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the playlist!](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333274120) by [restlesslikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesslikeme)  
> 
> 
> Beta'd by [runningturnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningturnip)  
> Art by [cassieoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh)  
> Emotional support, plot helper, first reader, amazing person: [Justafewthingstosay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay)

The first thing Crowley felt when he woke up was that he wasn’t alone. His mind yelled at him to react to the intruder, but before his body could respond, he caught up with the fact that he was with Aziraphale. He instantly relaxed.

The second thing he became aware of was Aziraphale’s head resting against his back and his fingers intertwined with his own. He squeezed the hand as if to make sure he was awake, to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming.

He wasn’t. Aziraphale squeezed in response, and kissed his back, then moved away to sit up.

Crowley could still feel the hands which had caressed his tattoo, could still feel the lips which had kissed his skin. No one had ever kissed his skin like that, had ever touched him like that, with such kindness, such gentleness. With such love.

The thought was stupid, it was irrational, but it was there. Crowley had felt loved. He had _felt_ love as if it was something he could quantify and identify clearly. He couldn’t express it in human terms, but it was how it felt. He couldn’t even say why he felt like this. Maybe it was just what it felt like, to be truly in love. Crowley didn’t remember a time when he had fallen in love so deeply for someone. He remembered being in love, but he couldn’t place a face, couldn’t recall a name. It was just an emotion, a feeling. And it was much more amplified with Aziraphale. 

He rolled onto his side, turning enough to look at Aziraphale, and smiled when he saw him with a book. The fact that Aziraphale was comfortable enough to read a book, to integrate and accept Crowley into his routine like this, warmed his heart. It almost made his head spin.

Aziraphale smiled, putting his book down carefully, and kissed his forehead and the few strands of hair hanging there.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

Crowley felt his cheeks reddening for no reason as Aziraphale let go of his hand to stretch and shift from his half-sitting position to lie back next to Crowley. His shirt lifted with his arms and revealed the soft skin under. Crowley’s first urge was to kiss the skin, to cherish it, but instead, he made a strangled noise and rolled back on his stomach, hiding in his pillow.

“Slept well?” Aziraphale asked, a laugh in his voice.

Crowley nodded. Yes, he had slept very well. No mysterious and cryptic nightmares, no horrible and heartbreaking dreams. Just a peaceful rest, next to the man he had started to love so deeply after only a few seconds. 

“I didn’t take you on that date,” Crowley mumbled in his pillow.

“It’s not too late,” Aziraphale said, hugging Crowley’s back as he didn’t seem to be turning. “I love… your hair,” he whispered dreamingly against his skin, his nose playing with some hair, pushing it away to kiss the skin below.

Crowley pushed his head a bit deeper against the pillow. Who needed breathing when a breathtaking creature was complimenting him?

He had never been very fond of his hair. He hadn't hated it, but he hadn't thought much of it. He hadn't cut it since the accident, that he was sure of. He just didn't care much about it. He hadn’t felt the urge to change his haircut in a long time. Now that Aziraphale had expressed his feelings, he liked it a bit more.

“Did it hurt?”

Crowley took a second to realize what Aziraphale was referring to. He was kissing and grazing the multiple lines of his tattoo with his lips and fingers. If he wasn't already hiding against his pillow, Crowley would have found another way to hide, as his mind thought back to the night before. He was pretty sure his skin was sensitive enough to pleasure him to no ends if Aziraphale simply kissed and touched it. He was enjoying the light kisses and touches immensely, relaxing under Aziraphale’s hands and lips.

The air he was breathing against his pillow felt too warm, too suffocating, so he turned to answer Aziraphale. Aziraphale adapted, his hands now wandering on his stomach, still tracing the lines of his tattoo.

“It did,” Crowley whispered, staring at the agile hands.

He didn't actually remember it. He didn't even know if he had been conscious through the whole thing or not. He simply knew he associated pain, physical and mental, with his tattoo. He had no idea what it represented. His snake tattoo was another mystery. It all looked a bit too much biblical for him. A serpent and wings. No one, especially not himself, had been here to answer his questions.

“When did you get it?” Aziraphale asked, kissing his stomach.

Crowley thought clever to hide behind his hand, his cheeks flustered.

“You'll laugh,” he said, embarrassed, as if to explain why he was hiding while both men knew it was only because of Aziraphale's kisses.

“I would never.”

Crowley moved his hand away to look at him, but averted his eyes as he saw more into Aziraphale's face than he had expected. He saw love and affection and admiration and so much respect.

“I don't remember,” Crowley said quickly, as if to think of something else than Aziraphale's eyes and feelings.

There was a silence. Aziraphale looked surprised and… reassured? Crowley didn't manage to identify the feelings going through his face and eyes.

“You okay?” Crowley asked after a while.

Aziraphale nodded, absently drawing circles with his index on Crowley's skin. “Anything else you don't remember?”

Crowley stopped breathing. He felt at a crossroads, with a choice to make. Did he want to tell his story, to burden Aziraphale with what had happened to him? Did he want to reveal that he had woken up one day, some three years ago, with no memory of who or what he was?

The answer was obvious.

“I can’t remember… how I learnt how to walk,” he said, looking away, trying to put on a smile. He knew how to do that.

“Oh,” Aziraphale let out.

He stopped moving his fingers, stopped moving his hands. He didn’t move away, he just rested them on Crowley’s skin, and let his head find its place against Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley almost regretted not confessing his secret, but deep down, he was scared of Aziraphale’s reaction. He didn’t know how he would react to the possibility of an unknown past catching up to Crowley. Even though he didn’t have distinct memories, he remembered a life of danger, of secrets, of lies. He knew he had felt like he didn’t belong for the longest time. He had felt frustrated and… he remembered going against his own. His own family, his own friends, his own community… he didn’t know exactly. But it had not ended well for him, and sometimes he was scared that a ghost from his forgotten past would come back to haunt him.

Crowley frowned as he realised that was exactly how he had felt when he had seen that mysterious man the day before. As if he had known him in his previous life. He couldn’t explain his anger towards him in any other way. He must have seen him somewhere, he must have known him at some point in his life. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale said again, but this time as if he had suddenly remembered something. “Something weird happened yesterday.”

“Did you kiss someone? Slept with them on the first… non-date?”

Aziraphale paused for a second, then chuckled. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.” Crowley smiled in response, but let Aziraphale continue his initial thought. “Someone came to the circus.”

He talked about that strange man who was his uncle but wasn’t – Crowley didn’t really understand that part – and had come to the circus with strange, outdated expressions, even more so than Aziraphale’s. Crowley barely followed everything, not sure it made sense, but tried to piece things together. Someone had come in, pretending to be someone they weren’t, and had talked in a strange way to Aziraphale, and Youssef. Crowley wished he had seen the young ringmaster’s face in this situation. Confusion was not an emotion he usually showed.

Gabriel – the man’s name – had talked about some sort of mission on Earth, as if he wasn’t living on the same planet as they all did, had mentioned how surprised he was and how exciting this all was, and how glad he was that everything was working out fine.

“And before he left, he asked about you.”

“About me?”

“Yes, he said your name, as if to see my reaction.”

“What happened?” Crowley asked, his heart beating faster in his chest. He had figured the man was the same man he had seen, the same man who had triggered such an abrupt reaction in his mind and body. He did not want to know why that man knew him.

“Nothing, I was surprised that he asked about you, but he didn’t stick long enough for an actual answer.”

Crowley nodded to show Aziraphale he had heard, but wasn’t sure how to answer. Aziraphale smiled.

He got up, and Crowley stared at his bare legs as he put on his pants. He could get used to his night outfit, if it always consisted of underwear and a simple shirt, he caught himself thinking.

“I’ll see you later, my dear?” Aziraphale said while he put on his suspenders and a warm jumper.

“You’re leaving?” Crowley found himself asking without really paying attention, until the idea of being left alone in the trailer hit home and he shook his head.

Aziraphale was now putting on his shoes. “I like walking around in the morning… You should get more sleep, I’ll be around.”

“Wait!” Crowley grabbed his wrist before he could get up again. “What… Do you mind if I join you?”

He hoped he wasn’t pushing too far. He didn’t know Aziraphale liked to wander in the morning and he didn’t know if he preferred to be alone for this or wouldn’t mind his company.

The way his face lit up left little to the imagination. He would be delighted to have someone – to have Crowley – by his side. Crowley got up almost instantly, dressed quickly, and was ready in no time, excited by this new activity. Aziraphale watched with a smile.

“Come on, angel!” He led the way, as if he had been the one offering this stroll, and got out in the still-dark morning.

It took only a few minutes for Crowley to start complaining about the cold. He usually trained at this hour, if he was up at all, so he never realised how cold it could get. But walking in a sleeveless shirt was not enough to keep him warm. Plus, it only took a couple of seconds for him to groan and whine.

He sighed when Aziraphale wrapped a warm scarf around him as a blanket. It smelt like him, it felt almost as warm as him. A glance sideways was enough for Crowley to feel fully warm again as he caught sight of Aziraphale’s kind smile and was overwhelmed by the tenderness he showed.

As if it hadn’t been enough, Crowley felt a hand close around his own, and he persistently looked away from Aziraphale, as if it would diminish the redness attacking his cheeks. He was cold, that was all.

They walked in silence, mostly. Aziraphale was clearly using this time to look around and think, and Crowley let him, following and thinking too. It felt nice, different. Quiet. The lively circus was quiet at this hour, and it felt peaceful. Of course, there was always someone working, somewhere, but it was nothing like before a show, or when pretty much everyone was preparing, training, rehearsing, perfecting an act…

Crowley had never really stopped and looked around whenever they settled into a new city. They saw so many that he hadn’t even thought about it. He had never taken the time to do it. He didn’t know if it was because of Aziraphale’s presence or his hand in his, or if it was something else, but he felt great walking and taking the time to look at where they were.

Trees looked different, or he had the feeling that they did, they seemed taller, more majestic. Of course, it was still England, he was familiar with what he was seeing, and yet they felt slightly different. Enough for it to feel like a new experience. 

When life started to animate the circus, they walked back to Aziraphale’s trailer. They exchanged a quick embrace, then Crowley disappeared to his own trailer to shower and change.

“Angel?” Crowley called after walking back out. Aziraphale was still standing in front of his trailer door, smiling. “How about a lunch? After the show. My treat.”

He was nervous, without really knowing why. What if Aziraphale was busy? Or didn’t want to? Or changed his mind?

The positive answer he received shut the voice in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the two beautiful and main art pieces for this fic from cassieoh [here](https://cassieoh.tumblr.com/post/190712738609/my-pieces-for-the-utterly-delightful-fic-toliman)  
> Don't forget to check and give some love, because the art is absolutely brilliant!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the playlist!](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333274120) by [restlesslikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesslikeme)  
> 
> 
> Beta'd by [runningturnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningturnip)  
> Art by [cassieoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh)  
> Emotional support, plot helper, first reader, amazing person: [Justafewthingstosay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay)

Tadfield. _Tadfield._ Something was off, something was wrong. He knew the name, but he couldn’t place it. Since the accident, it happened a lot, of course, but it was even stronger now. Aziraphale, that weird uncle of his… A city he didn’t remember ever hearing the name of, and yet he could feel memories linked to the place, to the name.

But he had never been there, not with the Circus, and not on his own as far as he knew. When he had asked, Talisha had told him they used to go there every year but then stopped, despite her not knowing the reasons why. She looked excited about getting to this new town and Crowley had to smile, and thanked her.

He looked over at Aziraphale, who was reading his book quietly. He didn’t seem as troubled as Crowley felt, but he couldn’t tell if it was an act or not. When Aziraphale read, he was so focused that anything else apart from the lines seemed insignificant. Non-existent.

Even his newly acquired boyfriend. If that was what they were. Crowley didn’t ask. It seemed natural enough. His partner, Aziraphale was his partner. And it was amazing, even when the magician occasionally ignored Crowley when he was too focused on a book.

Crowley didn’t really mind. He teased him about it. He joked about how the end of the world could come upon them and Aziraphale would rather burn with his books than stop mid-sentence. It always came out as a joke, and Crowley was the one making it, but his heart would always ache at the thought. He felt incredibly hollow and empty and sad. The very idea of Aziraphale near fire scared him to a point that he didn’t know he could get, especially as he couldn’t pinpoint the moment when that had started. Did he feel this way about other people? Why fire? He didn’t mind fire, usually.

Crowley looked at his phone when he felt it vibrate against his stomach, offering a perfect distraction to his restless mind.

He smiled when he read a message from Talisha. “ _That boyfriend of yours left freaking books in the trailer._ ”

He straightened up a bit to answer more easily. Solongo, who had come to the trailer at some point and hadn’t left before the circus started moving, slithered off Crowley and settled on the bed next to him, as to not be bothered again. Crowley smiled and apologized silently before typing on his phone. “ _Not my bf.”_

_“What am I supposed to do with them??”_

_“Read them?”_

_“I would, but they’re in latin. Nerd.”_

Crowley puffed. Of course they were. _“I’m not the one reading them.”_

_“When are you moving to the same trailer? Not that I don’t like you guys, but you might want to be alone.”_

_“What do you mean, young girl? And we would but we’re not… official, I’d say. Not yet.”_

_“Oh, Youssef knows. Everyone does. You’re official for us, so you just have to say the words. About that trailer…?”_

_“You just want your own.”_

_“I do!”_

_“What if we argue?”_

_“Why would you? Are you just pretending to find excuses because you're scared?”_

_“What if it's… I dunno, too fast?”_

_“We're in a circus, things happen differently. And chill, it's going to be okay. (I also really want that trailer)”_

Crowley stared at his phone, then at Aziraphale, still reading. He looked handsome, with his white locks and his stunning eyes devouring line after line.

He had never felt so peaceful and at ease with someone. If Crowley believed in reincarnation, he would have thought they had known each other in another life. If he believed in soulmates, he wouldn't have hesitated to call Aziraphale his soulmate. But he didn't believe in any of that. He believed in God, but he didn't believe God had anything to do with love between humans. They were too busy with everything else to have time to make people fall in and out of love. Crowley associated love to a deeply human, a deeply natural concept. Maybe not natural in himself, but in others.

Aziraphale had made it natural in himself. Natural to care, natural to love deeply and fully. Natural to _be_ loved.

“Do you want to live in a trailer together?” He didn't mind it, he realised. It already felt like they had lived together for years, actually. “Talisha wants her own place,” he thought necessary to add as an excuse.

Crowley waited. And waited some more. Aziraphale was still reading, and Crowley rubbed his face with his hands, sighing. He could have chosen a better moment.

He straightened up to go lie next to Aziraphale, resting his head on his belly. Solongo moved again with a hiss, curling up on himself a bit further away from the couple. Aziraphale automatically pulled his book up to let Crowley settle, then rested one arm on Crowley's shoulder, his free hand starting to run through his long hair. Crowley sighed contentedly and nuzzled a bit more against the warm and soft stomach.

“I do,” Aziraphale said after a while.

Crowley was caught off guard by the answer, as he had thought he would have to ask again, another time, and had thought Aziraphale had not heard him at all. He hid his face against Aziraphale’s stomach, feeling how flustered he was getting with just the idea of Aziraphale having said yes.

“You can bring all the books you want,” he said, his voice muffled by Aziraphale’s shirt.

Aziraphale laughed, marking the page he had stopped at with his index finger. His free hand, which had been running through Crowley’s hair, moved to his chin to guide his eyes up. He then leaned forward to kiss Crowley’s lips, their mouth locking naturally in place. Their kiss felt like a promise of moving in together. A promise of happiness and companionship.

Crowley smiled idly when Aziraphale pulled away and sat back against the bed’s headboard, going back to his book.

Crowley didn’t move for a moment, then remembered Talisha, and took out his phone. “ _I’ll ask Youssef._ ” He then opened some games he had installed to pass the time, and settled with his head against Aziraphale’s belly, making sure he wasn’t hurting him.

“Read to me?” he asked after a moment of silence.

Aziraphale smiled and nodded, and he started reading out loud, for Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the two beautiful and main art pieces for this fic from cassieoh [here](https://cassieoh.tumblr.com/post/190712738609/my-pieces-for-the-utterly-delightful-fic-toliman)  
> Don't forget to check and give some love, because the art is absolutely brilliant!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the playlist!](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333274120) by [restlesslikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesslikeme)  
> 
> 
> Beta'd by [runningturnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningturnip)  
> Art by [cassieoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh)  
> Emotional support, plot helper, first reader, amazing person: [Justafewthingstosay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay)

The trapeze was swinging and the woman suspended on it moved, standing, climbing, sliding… Flying. The Them gasped as they thought for the umpteenth time that she would fall. She never did, she never had.

“I swear it is her! She grew up, is all,” Brian said, following the artist’s movements.

“I was sure she was our age,” Wensleydale replied, focusing more on his popsicle than the rehearsal.

“That’s just because we barely saw her.”

Adam looked at his friends, smiling at how dumbstruck Pepper looked, how uninterested Wensleydale appeared and how excited Brian was. He himself was quite happy to be here. They had always liked circuses and never missed the opportunity to help them put up pretty much anything – it had started with very small things, like helping to carry chairs. They never lost their enthusiasm whenever a circus came to town.

For a while, there had been two circuses coming to Tadfield yearly. One had been Toliman. The other had stopped the year after Adam had realised that animals in circuses were treated awfully. They had later learnt that the animals had ran away, and the circus never came back. Toliman had stopped coming for a couple of years, after the whole debacle in Tadfield. Adam had been less enthusiastic about circuses for a while, but Pepper had reminded him why he loved it, and a couple of months later, they were here, back with Toliman, as if the circus had heard them talk.

“Snake!!” Brian ran out towards the snake he had spotted.

Youssef had told them about it when they had seen him, but the snake – Solongo was his name – had not been around. When Pepper asked him if he wasn’t scared that Solongo would run away, Youssef had shrugged, saying he always found his way back home, and liked to wander around.

The group followed Brian, all excited to see a snake. Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale all focused on Solongo, amazed by his colours and his apparent calm in the presence of three not-so-calm teenagers.

Adam would have been like them, had he not seen who was holding said animal. He wasn’t as much holding Solongo as had the snake wrapped around him, but it didn’t distract Adam from the fact that he knew the person. It took him a moment to remember. It had been one of the most unique days of his life – even if the numerous games he had invented throughout the years had had their fair share of memorable days – but a circus was the last thing he would have associated with this man. Not man. Demon. 

That explained Solongo’s behaviour. Adam remembered instantly that demon’s life and different forms, and he remembered the snake he had seen and felt. One of his forms was one of a snake. Adam did not know enough about snakes to be sure that they gathered around other snakes, but he knew his own experience, which was that if another human was in the middle of a big group of snakes and felt one other human, even in the form of a snake, that lone human would go near the snake-human.

That was his way of thinking, at least.

“You’ve never been here,” Pepper squinted at the demon, finally looking up from the snake.

“Do we know you?” Wensleydale asked.

Adam frowned. They shouldn’t be able to remember his face, but it wasn’t like he had been able to test his abilities out.

“Cool tattoo!” Brian said, not really looking up to his face, but a tattoo could be seen peeking below the snake’s belly.

Adam didn’t remember a tattoo. He hadn’t really seen him without his jacket, but his memory and life had not showed any tattoo on his back. It was as if his wings had changed, manifesting themselves as a tattoo instead of the wings Adam had seen.

“How long have you been working here?” he asked, crossing his arms on his chest. Why was he here? Was something happening? Were they in danger? Adam was ready to protect his friends.

Crowley – that was his name, Adam remembered – didn’t move, surprise written on his face.

“Where’s the angel?” he finally inquired, just before his eyes settled on said angel, who was stepping close to Crowley, standing by his side, his lips stretched in a smile.

“Who?” the demon asked, glancing at the angel by his side.

“What are you two doing here, in a circus?”

“Erhm… I’m… Hi, I’m… a performer?” Crowley answered, obviously not quite sure of what Adam was asking. “Who are you?”

“Is it a cover? It’s okay, we know you!”

Crowley and Aziraphale – the name came back to him a bit later than Crowley’s – exchanged a look, both shrugging. Adam wasn’t sure of what was happening. Had he erased their memories, too? He tried to reach into their minds, but wasn’t sure about how it all worked as he hadn’t purposefully done it before.

“Pepper!” Talisha’s voice cut in their conversation and Adam’s concentration, and everyone turned to her.

Pepper ran towards the newcomer, and the other two embraced in a hug, smiling and laughing as they hadn’t seen each other in some years. 

“Is there a new problem?” Adam asked, even if his body was pulling him towards the trapeze artist he greatly admired. He didn’t move, though.

Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley’s arm, probably because he was about to snap at Adam for being cryptic. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid we don’t know you… I’ve never been here and Crowley, here, hasn’t either. You seem to be familiar with Talisha, though.”

“You… don’t remember?”

Aziraphale gulped and Crowley froze – even more than he was already freezing. 

“Can you refresh our memories, maybe?” Crowley blinked.

Adam squinted his eyes at them, thinking. Something was wrong. It didn’t feel right – they didn’t feel like they had the first time he had met them. He doubted that they would have forgotten him. He wasn’t much different from any other teenager, but he had _felt_ Crowley’s panic when Adam’s biological father – but certainly not his real one – had been coming. It was enough to make Crowley remember that day for the rest of his life, no matter how long it had been and was going to be. And it had only happened a few years earlier, they shouldn’t have forgotten. 

He reached once more for their minds, trying to find something, anything which might help him, trying to gather that dormant power he felt deep inside him. He extended his mind, searching, looking for something. It had been a lot easier the first time around. He didn’t do that to anyone – it was too easy – but he had not really controlled it on the day the world hadn’t ended.

Finally, after forcing doors which had previously been wide open, he stumbled upon memories. They were not as clear as what he had been able to see before. It had never been clear images, but he was receiving information on them, gaining sudden knowledge. He chose to ignore some of it, useless to him.

He opened his eyes as sudden pain coursed through his veins, and the knowledge stopped. He winced. Something was definitely wrong. He had been able to understand enough. Enough to know that he couldn’t help them, but also enough to be able to offer a solution. At least, he hoped it would be one.

He looked at his friends and Talisha, then sighed.

“I’m Adam. We help around the circus whenever they come here. I can’t give you the answers you’re looking for, but you should go to London.”

“London?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley simply stared at Adam. Solongo moved away from Crowley to slither around Aziraphale’s shoulders. He didn’t look as comfortable as Crowley, but he didn’t flinch and didn’t look away from Adam.

“To the bookshop.”

Before Aziraphale could do anything, Crowley reacted, talking with his arms, as a crazy man. “What bookshop? What answers? Who are you?! Why should we trust… _you_? What are you even on about? If you know something, just say it!”

Aziraphale shook his head, putting a hand on his arm, and the other on Adam’s shoulder. “I apologize for him. We’re just… not sure that we understand you. How do you know us? Have you been to the circus while we were here?”

Adam suddenly felt like the important messenger in one of the books he read. Their messages were always cryptic and didn’t seem to mean much at first. He smiled briefly, then gave the impression that what he was saying was of the utmost importance.

“Crowley, Aziraphale, you have to go to A.Z. Fell and Co bookshop, in Soho. You will find help here. Tell them that Adam sends you. Don’t be late.”

It did sound cryptic enough for the young boy, who trotted off to his friends, calling Dog after him so he would stop sniffing Crowley. 

Adam wished he could snap his fingers and put everything back to normal, but he wasn’t sure he was able to do that. And it did sound a lot funnier to be the important messenger of a story. He could have said nothing at all, too, but his gut told him that the world needed Crowley and Aziraphale. Maybe they weren’t doing much, but who could blame two entities for being unable to influence a whole world? Maybe Earth didn’t even need them anymore, and they were better off without memories – seemingly, that was the problem. But that was their choice to make. The pain Adam had felt in their minds hadn’t been a choice. They had both let him have a choice, three years ago. Now, it was his turn to pay them back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the two beautiful and main art pieces for this fic from cassieoh [here](https://cassieoh.tumblr.com/post/190712738609/my-pieces-for-the-utterly-delightful-fic-toliman)  
> Don't forget to check and give some love, because the art is absolutely brilliant!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the playlist!](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333274120) by [restlesslikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesslikeme)  
> 
> 
> Beta'd by [runningturnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningturnip)  
> Art by [cassieoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh)  
> Emotional support, plot helper, first reader, amazing person: [Justafewthingstosay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay)

They arrived in the morning. They didn’t know what they would find, or if they would find anything at all. They had not spoken about it with each other, but both seemed to know. They both were missing memories. They both were scared of it. Scared of what they would find, of what they could remember. They clearly had known each other from before.

It explained so much. It explained the instant attraction Aziraphale had felt towards Crowley, it explained the feeling of familiarity, of being at home. But why had they woken up one day, without any memories of who they were, without any memories of each other? Had they been in the same accident?

They decided to keep those questions silent. Maybe they could ask them out loud later. It didn’t help to have more questions on their way to some answers – hopefully.

Crowley had taken his hand not long after they had left. He was fidgeting, stressing, moving his fingers and his legs nervously… It had soothed him, and he had even dozed off during the ride. He felt bad about leaving everyone behind, but they had understood, they had pushed them to go without delay. Talisha had been incredibly supportive, even if Aziraphale could feel how bad Crowley felt for having left. She was finally doing her solo act, after months of rehearsals, and she had assured them it was the perfect opportunity. Youssef had told them not to worry about their acts, that even if he’d rather keep them, they had replacements and other backup performances planned.

Talisha had also told them that Adam was a special kid, but she had always thought it was better to listen to him. He usually turned out to be right, even if she had only seen him for short amounts of time.

Crowley and Aziraphale talked about it for a long time. At first, they disregarded the teenager’s weird behaviour and cryptic advice, but curiosity had crept up and settled on them, as well as the strange feeling that they should listen to this odd kid. And, for people who had lost their memories, a gut feeling could sometimes be all they had left. 

They talked about it in the warmth of their trailer, trusting each other with their true feelings about the whole thing. It felt crazy to listen to an unknown kid and decide to head to the big city just on a hunch, but Aziraphale didn’t think he could risk it. London was not too far, and they owed Adam the benefit of the doubt, especially if it meant getting some answers. In the end, it was what they were both looking for. 

Aziraphale had joined a circus to find meaning to his life – and he had, in Crowley and in this big and wonderful family he had met – but finding out who he was also meant knowing what had happened to him. He still had so many blank years which he couldn’t fill, and he didn’t want to write over those blank pages, he wanted to restore them and understand what had happened in them. He just wanted to  _ know _ . Had he been living as someone unhappy and feeling like shit? Was he as alone as the lack of visitors in the hospital had suggested he was? He needed to know, deep down, who he was.

Crowley’s hand helped center Aziraphale as they made their way through the London streets. They all felt familiar. Even the fact of walking down them alongside Crowley felt familiar. Adam had been right to send them here, then. He just hoped they wouldn’t find anything bad. 

“Oh…” Crowley breathed out, stopping in his tracks.

Aziraphale almost bumped into him, but looked up, at what had stopped Crowley.

The letter “A. Z. FELL & CO” looked big, too big, above the double-doors of a corner building. He forgot to breathe for a second, only staring at this place with his… his name written on it. Had he made ‘Aziraphale’ up from his real full name? It was the name he thought he had, but maybe he remembered that wrong, too. He was still wondering as Crowley almost pushed him across the street, towards the doors of the building.

There was no opening or closing information on the front door, but an “Open” sign indicated that it must be a shop of some sort. The idea of it being a shop felt like the right answer to Aziraphale, but he could not have said why, as the interior looked nothing of the sort.

They stepped in silently, carefully. Crowley’s hand clasped around his, reassuring, calming, soothing his beating heart – and maybe Crowley was breathing as little as Aziraphale was. 

The place was gorgeous and familiar. It smelt of that delicious scent of old and ancient books. He had the impression that he knew exactly how the light was supposed to reflect on the abandoned chair in the circle of natural light in the middle of the place, as if he had sat there, reading for hours on end. He had the impression he knew how the strong columns felt, how cold the room could be but how warm it was supposed to feel.

It also felt odd. Wrong. He picked up a book and his hands naturally placed it back somewhere else. He never did that. He respected books and book owners too much for this, but it felt like the right place. It felt as if it was his legitimate right to do that.

The place was not a bookshop. It looked like one, but there was no price tag, no sign of a seller or a cashier. Aziraphale had the strange feeling of wanting people  _ not  _ to buy anything here, as if he owned the place.

“How may I help you?” A voice interrupted his thoughts, his memories, just when he was starting to grasp a sense of… nothing. The voice hadn’t really interrupted anything else but the silence in the room.

Aziraphale noticed Crowley’s hand had disappeared from his own, and he quickly scanned the room, glancing at Crowley’s fingers tapping the back of a chair, as if trying to remember something from it, before he looked at what probably was the owner of this place.

“Good morning, we are sorry if we’re intruding, we saw the ‘open’ sign on the front door…”

“Oh, thank God!” said the woman who interrupted him, walking quickly towards him. She stopped suddenly, looked up to the ceiling – to the sky? “I mean, no offence,” then finally joined Aziraphale. “I was so worried!”

Worried? Why was she… apologizing? And to who? God?

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who was frowning, and was probably trying to convey a message that could have easily been interpreted as “ _ She might be crazy and we might want to run away. _ ” Aziraphale chose to ignore it, and focused back on the woman. 

“Oh…. Oh, you don’t remember me.”

“I… I don’t.” Aziraphale managed to say, more confused than ever.

Why were so many people suddenly recognizing him, while he didn’t have a single clue of who they were? No memory of their faces or names or voices or smells… Nothing. He had only felt something with Crowley, and with that weird pretend uncle of his. Maybe he should have asked. Should have walked right up to him and asked more about himself. But he had not trusted him, at all.

He felt neither distrust nor trust towards the woman in front of him, but she looked smart and she was smiling at him. She didn’t look as sly and devious as that strange grey-dressed man. 

“Wait… What do you remember?”

She adjusted her glasses, then stopped the two of them before they had even started talking. She refused that they talk before she told them to, and disappeared.

A couple of minutes later, they were sitting in comfortable chairs, a cup of warm cacao for Aziraphale and a glass of wine for Crowley – the woman had said she could pour a drink for Aziraphale too, if he so desired. She herself was sipping tea.

“My name’s Anathema. Now, please tell me what you remember.”

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other with mixed feelings. Fear, confusion, hesitation… What were they supposed to do? What could one do in such a situation?

“How do you know I don’t remember?”

“Well, for one, you don’t remember me. Also, you’ve been gone for years. I was worried sick, but I’ve never heard anything from you. Which, I don’t blame you. I figured something might have happened, though. Maybe an emergency had occurred and you didn’t warn anyone and left. But when the world didn’t end, and I realised that you weren’t gone from my life, but your own, I did what you asked me to.” There was a pause, then Anathema’s mouth opened, as if she suddenly remembered something. “Right! You asked me to take care of this place, if… something were to happen. And something did.”

Aziraphale stared for a while, trying to understand everything. He did not, he could not. He still had too many questions, none of which had been answered, and they kept piling up.

“How do we know each other?” Crowley asked, gesturing between Aziraphale and himself.

The magician frowned. He had wondered the same thing, or thought about the fact that they must have known each other from before, but he would have never asked it. At least not so early on. He wanted to show they were united and give the impression that they were more confident than they felt before putting their hearts out on the table and admit that they weren’t sure of how they had even met.

“In the garden, I think?” Anathema stopped and suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Wait… Do you mean… You don’t remember meeting?”

“We remember meeting in the circus, but we met before, haven’t we? Which garden? What’s the garden?” Crowley questioned back, suddenly very interested in the answers.

“In the circus? Which circus? Wh-what? Can you… start at the beginning?” Anathema asked, blinking a few times and muttering to herself that it looked even more complicated than she’d thought.

Crowley told her, point blank, what he knew. He told her things Aziraphale had only taken a wild guess at, but things they had never told each other. He told her about waking up alone after an accident, and not having any detailed memory of his past life. He told her the truth. Said he had started working at a circus, because they were passing through, because he seemed to know how to do that. He told her it had been three years ago, and he had never discovered anything about his own past in all that time. 

Aziraphale listened, never taking his eyes away from Crowley’s face. It was everything they hadn’t told each other, but both knew, on some level, that the other had experienced. It still felt incredibly wrong to listen to it, as well as… impossible. Those things couldn’t have happened, it was too unreal. People didn’t just lose their memories at the same time and found themselves working for the same travelling circus…

“That’s… it?” Anathema said when Crowley stopped talking, and she took a few seconds to think. “That’s a lot of…” She paused, opened her mouth in shock, then turned to Aziraphale. “What about you?”

“Pretty much the same, but I only joined the circus recently. I… was waiting for something to happen, but nothing did.”

The young woman looked up at the sky again, and Aziraphale felt mounting frustration from her movement.

“Do you think God has something to do with that, maybe?” He hadn’t meant to snap, but the idea of a God watching down and doing nothing, letting everything happen, was upsetting him.

Anathema blinked. “In erasing your memory? I don’t think so. She might have brought you back together…”

“So, you believe in God?” Aziraphale had so many questions, and he did not know why he was focusing on these God questions.

She seemed taken aback by the question, then her expression changed to extreme curiosity. “Don’t you?”

“No.” Aziraphale answered without hesitating. He felt like something existed, something beyond his, and beyond anyone’s, grasp. But to say that he believed in God was a lot. 

“Can we focus back on the missing memories, and who you are, young lady?” Crowley said, crossing his arms on his chest. “You seem to know a lot about us… And why you think God would intervene in our favour or something is beyond me, but you look convinced so… I guess my question is why?”

“Well, because you’re an angel and a demon,” Anathema shrugged dismissively, as if she had just stated the most obvious and fundamental truth in the Universe.

Aziraphale puffed and Crowley croaked, both of them suddenly wondering what this whole prank was and when it was going to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the two beautiful and main art pieces for this fic from cassieoh [here](https://cassieoh.tumblr.com/post/190712738609/my-pieces-for-the-utterly-delightful-fic-toliman)  
> Don't forget to check and give some love, because the art is absolutely brilliant!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Listen to the playlist!](https://unfinishedduet.tumblr.com/post/190333274120) by [restlesslikeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesslikeme)  
> 
> 
> Beta'd by [runningturnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningturnip)  
> Art by [cassieoh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassieoh)  
> Emotional support, plot helper, first reader, amazing person: [Justafewthingstosay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justafewthingstosay)

“I can try to bring back your memories,” Anathema said, fidgeting with her fingers on her lap.

“How sure are you about that?”

“Well, you just have to trust me. I can do it.”

A few hours later, Crowley and Aziraphale were standing in the main room of the shop, waiting for a very nervous looking Anathema who was preparing something in the back room.

Crowley hesitated for a second, looking around, then slipped his hand into Aziraphale’s.

“Whatever happens…”

“Everything will be fine,” Aziraphale instantly said.

“If it doesn’t… If our memories are not what we wanted I… I’m just glad we got this time together.”

“I’m not losing you, Crowley. We’re just getting our memories back. I’ll still love you.”

Crowley’s breath caught up in his throat. “You… do?” he whispered, his fingers holding so tightly onto Aziraphale’s hand that he looked into Crowley’s eyes.

“Did you ever doubt it?” he asked with a smile.

Crowley babbled a bit, then shook his head. “It’s just… different to hear it.”

“I should have said it earlier, then.”

“No, no it’s... “ Crowley paused, taking a deep breath. “I’ll still love you, too.”

They had not been given enough information from Anathema to know what they would find in their past. She didn’t seem to be hiding anything, but had honestly said she could not possibly know everything they were going to find in their memories. Crowley wanted to take a guess and say they had not told her a lot about their lives, but he couldn’t be sure about that. Maybe they just were secretive people. He sincerely hoped it would not affect his feelings for Aziraphale. Or Aziraphale’s feelings for him.

Aziraphale’s arms around him were telling him that everything would be alright, his lips on his were assuring him that he didn’t have to even worry, and his hands caressing his cheeks were promising to love him forever.

“I have so many logistical questions, but I’ll ask after,” Anathema muttered a bit too loudly. Both men parted, looking innocent, as kids who had been caught stealing sweets.

Crowley tried not to feel self conscious, rubbing his neck nervously, but it was useless. 

Anathema proceeded to explain something neither of them understood, and told them to stay calm. She seemed to know what she was doing in the way she moved, but her eyes betrayed the fact that she had no guarantee of the outcome. 

There were herbs, a weird drawing on the floor, some tools Crowley could not name and a lot of muttering involved. And an ancient book Anathema was holding, too.

When she closed it, unsure, she sighed. “Let’s just hope it works on angels and demons…”

Before Crowley could question this last sentence, he fell to the ground when he felt a sudden pressure on his back.

“Crowley!” he heard Aziraphale’s voice, before it became too much and his brain refused to filter in any sound. He felt hands on his shoulders but shook them away.

It was painful. As painful as… As painful as when he had fallen, Crowley suddenly remembered. He was a fallen angel, that was the definition of a demon. It had been painful, to become one. He was a demon.

He could feel his skin opening, cracking, where his wings were trying to burst out. His tattoo was moving, changing, trying to break free, and his skin was protesting.

He let out a terrible scream and the pain suddenly stopped. He felt a reassuring presence in his mind, calming and soothing him, making him ignore the pain. His mind left the room, left this plane of existence, and he could feel Her with him.

“Why?” passed the barrier of his lips before he could prevent himself from asking the question he had always asked. He remembered always questioning, always trying to find a reason as to why some things were happening, why She let some things happen, why she made other things happen… It was why he had fallen.

He didn’t get an answer, he never had, and never would. But he didn’t feel her anger, either, this time. Just the vague feeling of loss and sorrow, and maybe an apology, if Crowley believed it to be possible.

Then the presence was gone, and when he opened his eyes again, his mind was back in Aziraphale’s bookshop, the familiar and now identified scent proving to him that he truly remembered, that he had his memory back.

It felt weird, to put the pieces back together and make sense of isolated feelings and forgotten memories. It all made so much sense, but it was all happening at once. Crowley held onto the familiar smell and the less familiar, but even more natural, feeling of wings spreading from his back.

He looked at his arms, visibly red from what had just happened, but otherwise plain. Well, maybe not quite plain, because his freckles were still heavily present, but he could no longer see the tattoo of wings which he had grown quite attached to over the past three years. His black demon wings were getting used to being out, to being free. He had knocked over a few books, but he would apologize for that later. Aziraphale wouldn’t blame him.

 _Aziraphale_.

Just as he was about to look up in panic to look for Aziraphale, a hand appeared in his sights, and he looked up at the owner of said hand.

Aziraphale was smiling, looking… okay. He didn’t look like he had gone through any pain, to be honest. Crowley took the hand, wiping away his mouth. He wasn’t bleeding, but he might have drooled a little when he had been in pain.

“Are you okay, dear?”

“‘M fine, angel.” There was a silence, the two of them looking at each other, their hands still locked together, as neither was letting go. They were hesitating, wondering if the other remembered as much, wondering what the other was thinking. “I can’t believe I said I liked your magic act,” Crowley chose to say after a long moment.

It shook Aziraphale out of his reverie, and he let go of Crowley’s hand, not without lingering his fingers against Crowley’s. “Your words, not mine,” he chuckled.

Then, Aziraphale was looking around with an expression of fondness. He called out to Anathema, who stepped closer shyly.

“Are you okay? I heard screaming but didn’t dare approach… Wouldn’t want to get caught in the middle of something I can’t control.”

“We’re fine. Say, my dear, what did you do with the place, exactly?”

Crowley smiled. Of course, he was going to ask about his precious bookshop. He hadn’t been in it for such a long time. Three years was a long time, even for a bookshop as old as Aziraphale’s, and Crowley had noticed things had changed, too. He couldn’t imagine how anxious Aziraphale felt, and he knew the question was more about how many books had disappeared than about what had happened.

Crowley picked up the few books he had knocked over as he listened to Anathema’s explanation of how she had turned the bookshop into a sort of private museum, because she was tired of cursing buyers’ into giving back the books she couldn’t convince them not to buy. To say that Aziraphale was relieved would be an understatement. Crowley thought with a smile that the angel would have struggled way less if he had turned his place into a book museum sooner. 

The demon folded his wings again, relieved to not feel any pain. He frowned when he saw the way the wings became ink on his skin and smiled at the unconscious miracle he had just performed. He wondered how many miracles they had done, unaware that they could perform any. It explained some of their luck, explained some of their talents. 

He briefly wondered what would happen with Aziraphale, then looked at Anathema. The woman was sort of standing in the room, trying not to get in the middle of Aziraphale’s careful scrutinisation of every book present, checking which were missing. She was also glancing at Crowley sometimes, probably wondering if she had done good, bringing back their memories, or if they were meant to remember. Crowley knew they should have not been able to forget in the first place.

“Crowley?” He looked up, smiling at Aziraphale who looked hesitant. “I guess we should talk about… you know.” 

“Yes.”

“So… erhm…” There was a silence, Aziraphale looking away.

Crowley eventually put a reassuring hand on his, earning a surprised stare. “I meant everything and… I wouldn’t be opposed to continuing it. If…”

“Yes! Yes, me too,” Aziraphale instantly said, his eyes shining with excitement and love. 

Crowley nodded and looked at Aziraphale turning his palm so their fingers intertwined, and his smile widened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the two beautiful and main art pieces for this fic from cassieoh [here](https://cassieoh.tumblr.com/post/190712738609/my-pieces-for-the-utterly-delightful-fic-toliman)  
> Don't forget to check and give some love, because the art is absolutely brilliant!


	13. Epilogue

From another plane of existence, a non-consistent form smiled. One could not have seen that smile – or not for long as they would have burned alive, probably – but She felt it.

_Phew, that was a close one. Almost fucked that one up_.

She looked at the only angel and demon who had spent as much time watching Earth as She had. She hadn’t planned on them taking so long to get their memories back. That was partly Her fault, of course, for having gotten distracted by supervising the rest of the Earth, and watching Adam and his friends. They were an intriguing bunch. It was when She had been watching them that She had realised She had totally forgotten about Aziraphale and Crowley. She had initially thought of giving them back their memories whenever they would finally kiss – God had a right to be a hopeless romantic, especially when it came to this 6,000 year old mutual pining. It had always been Her plan, up until the moment She had forgotten about it, of course.

When She saw Adam talking to them, suggesting that they go to Aziraphale’s dear bookshop – what a strange kid, he had taken an odd pleasure at being mysterious – She remembered Her plan, and decided to wait and see. Maybe they would remember something with the bookshop. This time, She didn’t go off to do something else. She stayed and watched, and raised a closed fist in victory, no matter that She wasn’t material, when She heard them promise each other to keep loving one another.

She had not noticed they were not themselves right away. After the non-pocalypse, She had been busy, had to make sure Her children were not planning an attack – or that She would have enough time to plan a defence. They did not seem to be in a hurry, and humans were continuing their imperfect and flawed, but so amazing lives. When She realised that humanity’s own angel and demon were not doing anything, She checked on them.

If Heaven and Hell still disagreed on many things, the one common ground they had was their hatred for Aziraphale and Crowley. God had winced at the pain they purposefully inflicted to Crowley as they restrained his wings to his body, preventing him from spreading them without meaning to as they erased his memory. They should not have been able to do that on a non-human being, but She watched as they managed to do it, and threw Crowley’s now marked body to a corner of London. Maybe She pushed some ill-intentioned people away from Her creation, that night.

Aziraphale’s process was less painful. It wasn’t that the angels did not want to harm him, they didn’t shy away from hitting him for good measure, but their work was cleaner. They imprisoned his wings without getting their hands dirty, but threw him with even less care than their fellow, fallen angels. 

She hadn’t meant to intervene, at first. She tried not to, because it raised the question of when to intervene, for whom to do it, raised the question of why. And if She started asking herself the questions which had caused Her Crowley to fall, then it did not make any sense.

So She did nothing.

Well, almost. She influenced a mind or two, maybe. Nothing of importance or with much impact, really. Nothing that would go against any ineffable plan She had concocted for humans, angels, demons and other livings. 

She made sure Gabriel did not notice Crowley when he visited Aziraphale to gloat and act so badly he almost gave his true nature away. She missed Aziraphale and Crowley _finally_ making out after all these millennia, but She had not missed the opportunity of catching up with it. What was the point of being a God if you couldn’t watch your creations finally be happy? 

So, when that odd witch started spraying herbs and pretending to know what she was doing, maybe there was a little external help in restoring Aziraphale and Crowley’s memories and wings. She also appeased Crowley’s pain, which She almost instantly regretted, but She could not bear seeing him suffer another time because of Her. Not that She blamed Herself for that, she couldn’t be held responsible for everything Her creations did and thought, but he had been through enough. She ignored his questions, even if they felt like a plague spreading through Her own mind. He had always been a clever one.

She smiled again when She saw Aziraphale and Crowley embrace each other and embrace their love. Maybe She let out a sigh of relief, glad to know that She wouldn’t have to intervene for them to stop being idiots. It wasn’t that She had wanted to force them to be together, they had their own free will – and they had made everyone in Hell and Heaven know that – but it was sometimes painful to know and to watch, perfectly aware that a slight push towards each other would be enough for them to finally act. She didn’t have to do that anymore.

She had other people to watch and other events to be careful of, but She took a blip in Her existence to follow Aziraphale and Crowley as they grew used to their lives again, as they decided not to take revenge and to pretend they still did not remember. She saw them as they visited their human friends and apologized for leaving and promised they would find them again. She saw them as they decided to take a break from London for a while as they figured what to do with their new life, something they hadn’t taken – and hadn’t been given – the time to do before they had lost their memories. She smiled when they settled down in a quiet South Downs cottage, and grew a garden with an apple tree standing proudly in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the two beautiful and main art pieces for this fic from cassieoh [here](https://cassieoh.tumblr.com/post/190712738609/my-pieces-for-the-utterly-delightful-fic-toliman)  
> Again, thanks everyone who helped with this fic, and thank you for reading. It was my first GOBB ever and I hope you enjoyed this! Don't forget to give love to the artists, who did a wonderful job!


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